A Breath Until Forever (13 page)

“You paint such beautiful pictures.” Commented Joshua as he watched Meredith work her magic on the canvas that lay vertical in front of her.

“Thank you.” Expressed Meredith. “Lots of courses, lots of heart ache.” She replied back. He could understand that, and briefly, he felt like he had formed a connection and that her painting could be equaled to his ranching, but his ranching had required lots of training, alongside with lots of heart ache, which made him not only a better rancher, but the best around Wake County. At least for awhile, until he lost his one and true love in the tornado then succumbed to alcoholism again where he would drink a bottle of whiskey just for breakfast. That was a heart ache that he could never rise from, until now, where this older pretty and talented woman by the name of Meredith Hurley was making him realize that anything could change for the better, as long as you put your heart into it.

She continued to impose her talents on the canvas that was now coloring brighter and brighter with each individualistic brush stroke. With the flickering of her whippings, she opposed changes in light, made shadows dance with happiness, and filtered out any aberration with the meteoric emblazonment of her craft. Joshua watched impecuniously as she dominated the canvas with a skill of an artistic intellect that could be equaled to Monet. It blew his mind away. Wild life dominated the land with their ferocious beauty, but Meredith had a special way of changing nature that was elastic, and always left her final painting of display, even better then God had created himself.

“Wow!” Joshua had to comment on Meredith's painting, even though he knew he shouldn't, being that she was in an hypnotic state entangled in her painting. She was underneath a spell now, and the connective line that bridged nature to Meredith, was strong and tight. “You are amazing!”

Meredith, who had been involved in a frenzy of flickering her paintbrush all over, didn't answer at first, then suddenly snapped out of her spell. “Oh, sorry, sorry, are you talking to me?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Joshua said. “I said, your painting, it's amazing!”

“Thank you.” Smiled Meredith. “You know, it's kind of funny, but that means something to me. A lot. More then those compliments I have received at the art galleries.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they give out lots of compliments. Have seen lots of pictures. But you. Well, you have a picture of Johnny Cash in velvet sitting in your living room. You don't know art very well, and well, you like mine. It means a lot, if that makes sense to you at all.”

“Makes perfect sense.” Joshua half lied, half told the truth. He could kind of understand it, although it had not penetrated deep enough, to fully understand it at its full capacity as Meredith would have liked.

Meredith looked deeply in Joshua's eyes, and the way the sun hit his dilated pupils, was enough to make her suddenly grow weak, and her paintbrush dropped to the ground. 

Joshua, being the true gentleman that he was, went to go pick it up for her. Joshua was also wearing tight forming jeans, and she watched as the jeans pulled themselves tight around his thick thigh muscles as he knelt down to pick up the brush that she had clumsily dropped. She grew wet as she watched him bend over, his ass showing off through the square trimmed pockets. His ass was so nice. His best feature of anatomy. Perfect. A vesicle of firmness. When most guys had no ass, Joshua had one and then some, and it looked like a bubble of tight muscle that she wanted to just reach out and
squeeeeeeze
.

Meredith blushed as he gave the paintbrush back to her. Their hands touched again, briefly, and again Joshua felt a warmth tingle throughout his body.  He wore a faded western light blue shirt, and sweat made it stick to his back, his chest hairs sticking out. Not only had Meredith checked out his ass, but she had also noticed his chest hairs that made her even more wet. She loved chest hair. Something about a man with chest hair, made a man more of a man. She shook her head quickly, trying to erase any fantasy thought about Joshua. She was a married woman, for Christ's sake. And even though he was nice eye candy to look at, she couldn't get herself more involved in thinking how nice it would be to touch that ass, to feel that chest hair move through the spaces of her fingertips. No, back to work. 

“Would you mind adjusting the easel again for me?” Asked Meredith, feeling that the easel had slipped some in the dirt, since painting on the canvas. Her frenzy of whipping paint on the canvas, and freelancing such brush strokes had moved the canvas so that it was unbalanced again, no longer leveled at a pitch that she was comfortable with.

“Sure.” He went ahead and adjusted the easel for her, but when he did, he just had to bend down again at that same angle that he had done minutes earlier when she had dropped her paint brush. Instantly, she felt an aching between her legs and she grew wetter than before, wishing so much, just for a brief moment of time, that she wasn't married and didn't have such responsibilities of being a wife and a mother. If she knew these responsibilities, then what was she doing with Joshua now? She should never have asked him to come here, to join her to watch her while she painted. But she had been too lonely for too long on the road, and Joshua was unlike any other men on the road. Although Joshua had been horny for her, he had been a gentleman about it, and even though he had been presented tons of opportunities, not once had he jumped on the chance to sleep with her, nor had he made any move of advancement that made her feel less than a woman, and more of a slut. Perhaps that is way she had invited him, this difference, and because she didn't know Joshua's thoughts, or what was running inside of her head, she felt as if it was all her who was experiencing all these thoughts of lust, of eroticism, and it made her feeling slightly dirty, and guilty, for ever recycling these thoughts that would certainly get her into trouble if she acted upon them.

Meredith looked up at the evening sky, which was now scattered with the remnants of the mid-day. She breathed deeply, feeling hopelessly lost, listening to Joshua as he quietly whistled a tune that was most familiar to her. “Georgia on My Mind” by Ray Charles. Joshua then took out a harmonica out of his right pocket of his shirt, then began to play the harmonica to finish up the soulful song, the notes completely on key, the high pitched whistling bellowing wild out of the steel tooth combed instrument. 

Meredith instantly stopped painting so that she may listen to Joshua play, amazed that Joshua could play the Harmonica so well.

“Wow.” Meredith applauded wildly, clapping her hands as if the Seattle Seahawks won the Super Bowl. “Where did you ever learn to play like that?”

“When I was a kid, I used to look in the windows of those bars on Hudson in Raleigh. I listened to an older guy play one of these things, and I kind of picked it up real easy. I had received a harmonica for Christmas that year, and well, I just kept playing ever since. I have never played for anyone before though, except for Izzy.”

“Who is Izzy?”

“You know that old ratty thing that was laying down on the front porch?”

“Yeah.”

Joshua laughed. “That is Izzy. She's my dog.”

“Nice dog.” Said Meredith. “I have a dog too. Back home in Seattle. His name is Luca. And he is old as dirt.” She laughed. She then gave Joshua a compliment. “I like it. Your harmonica playing.”

Joshua smiled. “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your painting.” Joshua said. “It's just that when I am happy, I play the harmonica.” He said. “I admit, I've had this harmonica in my pocket for awhile now. Every time I wake up in the morning, it's the first thing I slip in my pocket, and it's been two years since I've played it. And well, being out here, in the middle of nowhere, watching you paint, well, guess that was all the inspiration for the joy I needed to play.”

“I'm glad Joshua.” Meredith's heart swooned. She enjoyed the fact that she made someone else happy, instead of herself for once, and something inside of her lit up like a hot fire.

“I want to go over there now, beyond the creek.” Meredith said. “Mind helping me with all of my stuff over there? Need a better view.” Joshua helped Meredith with her stuff and traveled through the water, which climbed halfway up to his knees. He didn't mind though, his boots protecting him. He felt worse for Meredith who wore sandals, mud collecting between her toes. They reached an area where the old decrepit bridge was crouched down in the light shadows of the early dusk, and neared where a medium sized oak tree sat in a circle of gypsy hearted sunflowers.

Through the traveling of the creek, mud had splattered all over the back of her jeans, sprinting little dirty spots to speckle her back side.

“You got, uh, a little something back there.” Joshua told Meredith, pointing to her backside. Meredith looked behind her, and she felt herself grin in mild embarrassment. Meredith took a clean rag that she was going to use to wipe clean her paintbrushes, and used it to wipe the mud off of her ass, the rag quickly turning from antique white to a ruddy brown within seconds. Joshua would have loved to have had the opportunity to wipe the mud off of Meredith's jeans himself with his hands, but thought that would have been too much for him to do so, and so he had behaved himself, although all he wanted to do was wipe it off, then grab it with a firm and erotic squeeze.

Before getting back to work, Meredith surprised Joshua by taking out a Kodak Polaroid camera from out of her backpack. It was the Kodak Polaroid 600; something she had bought at the mall, with film, with some of the money she had earned while painting the Clarkson Family in Riverdale, California. It was an oil family portrait, something to be hung and admired above their fireplace mantel. She had wanted a Kodak Polaroid camera ever since she saw the commercial for it between The Love Boat and Charlie's Angels, and thought it would help her with her painting, especially on those days where she had no control over the weather, and it would either rain or snow, disposing of her perfect view.

“Mind if I take your picture?” Asked Meredith to Joshua, who was wiping off some of the mud that he had collected on his boots with a young leaf that had fallen from the oak tree.

“What?” Asked Joshua, a little surprised of Meredith's request. Nobody had ever asked to take his picture before. He felt a little awkward.

“Mind if I take your picture?” Repeated Meredith, this time, making her words strong and a bit louder than before.

“Where?” Asked Joshua.

“Here.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” Meredith answered.

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Meredith teased.

“Okay then.” Said Joshua.

“Go over there, by the oak tree. Lighting is good.”

“Okay.” Joshua neared the tree.

Meredith clicked a button. Snap. Film automatically spit from out of the camera.

“Fancy camera.” Commented Joshua. He had seen commercials on TV about cameras like that, but he had never seen one in person before, or in action either.

“Here.” Meredith gave the Polaroid shot to Joshua. It was not done developing, and the 24 mm x 36 mm of the snapshot was still foggy and full of white bright mist.

“What's this?” Asked Joshua, a little naive on how Polaroid cameras worked.

“A picture. Something to remember this moment by.”

Joshua flashed Meredith a strange look. Meredith took it to herself, to quicken this confusion up. “Look, here. Like this.” Meredith flicked her wrists and allowed the picture to naturally develop. A picture of Joshua against the oak tree appeared right before their eyes like magic.

“Wow!” Joshua was impressed. “That is pretty neat.”

“Can I take your picture now?” Asked Joshua, wanting to get his hands on a camera that he thought was as fascinating as she was.

“Me?” Meredith seemed rather perplexed by his request. She was used to being behind the paintbrush, as well as being behind the camera. She was usually the viewer, not the subject matter.

“Yeah, you.” Joshua laughed. He liked how juvenile Meredith could be. So innocent and shy. “Will you?”

Meredith fussed around her hair, and began to play around with the tangibleness of it. It was as if she were in High School again and a cute boy wanted to take her picture. But she wasn't in High School, and this boy was a man, so it made the moment even more awkward than it was. “I'm not really photogenic, really.” She said making excuses. She instantly blushed, feeling a fire in her cheeks brighten up her skin. “I take horrible pictures.”