Post by JV on Feb 17, 2010 18:23:27 GMT -4
Heath Barkley walked along the street with one of his twins sitting on his shoulder and the other holding his left hand. The small but contented group were enjoying the sites and sounds of the 4th July celebrations in town, eating their candy floss and marvelling at the man on stilts who stopped to entertain the boys and give them a flag each. As they made their progress down the street Heath was stopped as friends and acquaintances stopped to say hello. Of course, Heath had seen all the celebrations before, but that didn’t spoil his enjoyment. Just as they had for the past 9 years he and his older brother Nick would compete in the horse race after lunch and then wrestle in the wrestling match. Heath smiled when he thought of how as a raw, eager eighteen-year old he had vainly tried to best Nick. There was no way he was going to beat his brother with his slighter frame but that didn't stop him from trying. Now their matches were more evenly balanced and he was looking forward to taking back his champion’s crown at this year’s event.
“Pa!” Sean asked; his face hidden behind the huge candy floss which stood nearly as tall as him. Sitting on top of his father’s shoulders it gave Heath the appearance that he was wearing a towering pink plume on his head. What he didn't know too was that his sun-streaked dark blonde hair was peppered with sticky bits of sugary pink floss.
Heath raised his eyes to his son and answered, “Yes, son.”
Sean pointed to a man who was sitting at a table and seemed to painting a portrait of a man. “Can we go over there?”
“Don’t see why not. Looks kind of interestin’”
The trio walked over to the area the man occupied on the main street and stood silently behind him to watch the skill of the man painting the man’s portrait in miniature. Sean whispered into his father’s ear, his small breath caressing his father's ear lobe. Again, Heath’s hair benefited from another dollop of candy floss. “Pa, what is he holding in his other hand?”
“It’s called a magnifying glass. It helps him see things which are very small.”
“What’s a miniature?”
“It’s a very small portrait of somebody. People usually carry them to remind them of somebody they love.”
Heath’s five year old twins were fascinated and Sean indicated to his father that he wanted to get down. This accomplished both he and his brother Thomas approached the man more closely. “Don’t go annoying him.” Their father cautioned.
The boys heeded their father's words. “It looks just like you.” Thomas advised the sitter.
“Then I am pleased.” The well-dressed man answered, trying not to smile.
“He’s even got your whiskers,” Sean added.
Again the man bit down on his smile.
Remembering their sticks of candy floss the brother both took a bite.
The artist finished his work, took a moment to mount the picture in a frame and then showed the sitter what he had done.
“Excellent.” The man said, taking money from the top pocket of his waistcoat to pay the man.
Heath was about to walk away when the artist suggested he might want to sit with his sons.
Now Heath had only had his portrait painted once before. The occasion has been a portrait of him and his siblings commissioned by his mother shortly after he had joined the family. The portrait hung in the Parlor much to Heath’s discomfort as he thought it made him look very young. Meg, his new wife was a talented artist, but so far he had resisted her pleas to sit for a portrait. So with this history of reluctance Heath politely declined. “What about one with your sons?” The artist suggested, eager to make a new sale. Heath felt the tugging hands of his sons. “Please Pa! Can we?”
Heath looked at his pocket watch. He had arranged to meet back with Meg and the others at one for lunch.
“Oh don’t worry, Sir. I’m very fast. You won’t be unnecessarily delayed.”
“Please Pa!”
His twins pleading hard to resist, Heath reluctantly agreed, thinking in the end it might be something nice for Meg to have. He threw the remainder of his candy floss stick in a nearby receptacle and sensing his sons had had enough of theirs he did the same with theirs.
He was about to sit down with his sons when the artist intervened. “If I may assist you, Sir.” The man then proceeded to remove pieces of floss from Heath’s hair.
Sean looked guiltily up at his father.
“Thank you,” Heath answered, slightly embarrassed.
“Now sir, if I may suggest doing one portrait of yourself, perhaps for a pendant for your lovely wife and then doing a portrait of you with your sons.”
“Well, I don’t know. I promised to be somewhere at one.”
“Not a problem, Sir. I work very fast, now boys what about sitting over here while I draw your father.”
The two five-year olds did as they were told whilst Heath sat a little awkwardly, aware that they were beginning to attract a crowd. Having a portrait with his sons was one thing but on his own with an audience, well that was something else.
Resigned but still embarrassed he crossed his left leg over his right and crossed his arms across his chest as was his custom.
Seeing his client’s discomfort the artist suggested an alternative position for Heath’s hands, “Now if you will look this way, Sir.”
Heath’s handsome face fixed on the artist. Despite his inward discomfort Heath looked relaxed and the artist was satisfied.
He worked quickly to capture Heath’s features, the strong jaw line, the smooth, slightly long line of the nose and its complimentary button end, the neatness of the lips and the expressive eyes framed by long eye lashes. Next he worked on the outer lines of Heath’s face and hair and then the collar and shoulder lines of his shirt and vest, all the time working with the aid of his magnifying glass. Satisfied he had captured the likeness he wanted he picked up his fine paint brush and began adding the subtleties of colours with which to flesh out the drawing, taking care to capture the tan of the man’s face, the slight wrinkles creasing the youthful forehead, the blueness of the eyes and the blonde colouring of hair. In all the process took little more than half an hour.
“Would you care to see, Sir?”
The crowd leaned forward and murmured their collective voice of approval. Slightly unnerved at being on show Heath got up and came round to view it, surprised himself at the good likeness the man had managed to capture. “It’s very good.” He offered economically.
“I’m glad you like it. Now if you would like to sit again, I’ll do one now of you and your sons.”
Heath stretched his back. Half an hour of sitting without the option of moving around was not his favourite occupation, but he had to admit the artist was talented and so he sat down whilst the artist arranged his sons around him, one sitting on his knee and the other standing at his side. The pose managed to capture an appropriate mix of formality and informality. Again the artist worked efficiently to accomplish his task and when it was finished Heath was glad he had agreed to the sitting for it was indeed a fine picture. His left eye teared ever so slightly and he quickly changed the subject to the matter of payment. “Would you like me to frame them for you, Sir?”
Heath shook his head, “No, I’ll take them as they are.” Money exchanged, the artist placed the pictures in a protective covering and watched as his clients strolled away. A man stepped forward with his own sons, “I want one doing just like Heath Barkley,” he announced. The artist looked at the gloriously rotund man and his equally rotund sons. “I’ll do my best, Sir,” he answered, grateful for the extra commission but recognising that even his skill had its limitations.
Heath clutched the pouch containing the miniatures to his chest and walked down the sidewalk with his sons. He met Nick along the way. “Where you’ve been?” Heath showed his brothers the miniatures. “Well, he’s got your likeness, it's a good one of the boys, too. Where is he?”
“Down the street.”
“Might just be I'll mosey on down there and have one done of myself.”
“You!”
“And why not me?”
“Oh no reason, it’s just that second to me, I don’t know anybody more reluctant to sit for a portrait. Best go now whilst you're still smiling because you won’t be this afternoon when I beat you in the horse race and then in the wrestling.”
Nick observed the smile on his brother’s face and heard the giggles emanating from his nephews. “Heath, Mother taught me long ago never to count my chickens before they're hatched and I think as the older, wiser and more handsome of us I’ll gift those words of wisdom to you, because little brother, your need is clearly greater than mine.”
“Well, I'm touched, Nick. Truly touched. But whilst it may be fine advice for when I want to wrestle chickens or eat an egg, this afternoon I'm wrestling you and I know I got you beat.”
Nick let out a loud disapproving 'hmph' and addressed his nephews. “You boys want to come with me? I’m going to have my portrait done.”
“Okay,” they answered, promising their father not to be late for lunch and giving him a kiss goodbye.
Alone, Heath decided on finding Clem Watkins, the Jeweller. He wanted to see if Clem would open his shop so he could find a pendant for Meg. It didn't take him long to find him in the crowd watching the knife throwing act but it did take him several attempts to make himself understood above the noise of the enthralled crowd.
“Okay, Heath.” The jeweller agreed, not wanting to pass up a sale or disappoint an important client.
In the shop Heath took his time choosing what he wanted, finally chosing a pendant he thought Meg would like and a suitable frame.
“Appreciate it Clem.” He said, exchanging money for his purchases.
“Leave the miniatures with me, Heath. I’ll mount them for you and find you later.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re in the horse race this afternoon?”
“Sure am.”
“I’ll find you there, after the race.”
“Thanks Clem.”
Heath stepped out on to the sidewalk and the warm sunlight. Checking his pocket watch he decided it was time to head to the restaurant to meet up with the others. He hoped his sons were behaving for their uncle and that by the same token his brother was behaving for the artist.
Arriving at the restaurant he was greeted by the proprietor and took of his hat, hanging it on a nearby peg. Seeing his family gathered at a table he navigated his way through the tables of seated diners and kissed his wife and mother before sitting.
Meg who was holding her step-daughter, Cate, looked around for Thomas and Sean.
“There with Nick.” Heath explained. “He’ll be here shortly.”
Just at that moment the door opened and Nick and the children appeared. The children ran to their mother and father. “Pa, Uncle Nick he...”
“Sit down boys.” Their uncle informed.
Silenced the boys took their seats and Heath and Meg looked at each other puzzled. “Everything go alright, Nick?” Heath inquired.
“Everything is just fine.” Nick announced, providing no further information, but looking pretty stern.
The family took their cue not to inquire further and began choosing something to eat.
The boys were itching to tell but one look from their Uncle silenced them immediately.
After their meal the family rejoined the festivities outside until Nick and Heath had to leave to prepare for their race
Heath still couldn’t coax a look at the portrait from his brother.
Mounting their horses they made their way to the starting tape and readied themselves and their horses for the race. They both set off as equals then on the fourth circuit Nick took the lead with Will Franklyn a close second. Heath and Charger began to lag.
Thomas and Sean with their loyalty to their father shouted out their encouragement from their vantage point on the hitching post where they stood firmly held by their Uncle Jarrod and Grandmother. At one point Thomas turned around to his Uncle Jarrod, fearful that his father was about to lose. Uncle Jarrod, pragmatic and fair, tried to console him. “Now Thomas, today may just be your Uncle’s day, but the race isn’t over yet and your father is a great competitor. Let's see what happens.” And sure enough two circuits later Heath had caught up and the race was proving neck and neck.
“Come on Papa!” The young Barkleys chorused. Jarrod and Victoria tightened their hold as their charges threatened to topple over into the street with their excitement.
As the final circuit neared, the crowd trained their eyes on the end of the street and the first sign of horse rider in front. “Here they come!” a man shouted, signalling they were approaching. It was Heath who had maintained the lead, the neck of Nick horse at a level with Charger’s rear and tail. Charger sensed the excitement of the crowd and galloped towards the finish line, his smooth action making the final stretch seem effortless as the distance between him and Nick’s horse lengthened. Winner and runner up flashed by the crowd, slowing to a stop as they neared the end of town.
Heath was on a high. Nick was disappointed but brother and man enough to congratulate his brother and tell him to consider the win only temporary. Heath smiled back, splitting his face in two and patted the triumphant Charger. That the horse had been a gift from Nick some years before helped soften Nick’s disappointment. “Didn't I tell you I could pick a good horse?”
Heath felt his back patted by the older brother who he loved to beat. “You going to show me that portrait now?”
“What portrait?”
Heath looked confused and pointed to where the artist had been previously seated. “The one you went to have done before lunch”
“Younger brothers should know when to keep quiet.”
“Stop avoiding the subject, Nick. I showed you mine, only right you should show me yours.”
“Oh very well then,” Nick snapped as he got off his horse and patted the hard working bay. He pulled out the miniature from his breast pocket and passed it to the now dismounted Heath.
Heath couldn’t resist breaking out into a laugh. “Boy Howdy Nick. Why do you look so stern? It’s a portrait you’re sitting for not a wanted poster.”
Nick was less than impressed.
“Because I...”
“Yeah?”
“Because I wanted to look serious.”
“Well, you certainly achieved that. That picture’s enough to frighten any future children you may have.”
“Ah hell, it’s not that bad.”
“Well, don’t show it to my children.”
“Too late, they’ve already seen it.”
“It just doesn’t look like you. But it sure makes wrestling you later a lot easier. Don't have to think of you as my brother now.”
“Will you just give it a rest! That super-pleased-with-yourself southern drawl of yours is beginning to grate”
Heath walked his horse back to the winner’s ceremony, chuckling all the way and wondering what he ever did without brothers for the first sixteen years of his life.
Later that day Nick got his revenge, defeating his brother in the wrestling final. The trademark grin returned to his face as he picked his brother up off the floor by his belt. The loser found his way to his family as Nick took centre stage.
“Got something for you,” he said to Meg as she helped him on with his shirt. She watched as he sought out a package from under his vest. "There was a portrait artist down the street. I had him do one of me and the boys.”
“Oh so you’ll sit for a complete stranger and not for me, will you Heath Barkley.” She gently admonished.
“Open it.” He answered.
“She opened what was actually two boxes, the smallest first. “Oh it’s beautiful, Heath. He’s captured your likeness so well. I shall wear it always. Thank you.” Their lips met in a kiss before she returned her attention to the second box. Intrigued, she opened it, putting her hand to her mouth when she saw the miniatures of her husband and step-sons staring back at her from the frame. “Do you like it Mama?” Thomas asked. “Sean and me kept ever so still.”
“I can see that. It’s beautiful. My three favourite young men all in one picture.” Again she shared a kiss with Heath and then hugged her sons. The miniatures were such an unexpected surprise and so well done. Maybe one day she would get Heath to sit for her as well.
They turned to see Nick receiving his Champion’s belt and then withdrew to the hotel to prepare for the evening celebrations.
****************
Meg sat down at the vanity table in the hotel room she and Heath would be staying in overnight. Though newly married her pregnancy was becoming more evident and she knew she had attracted a number of stares from town folk speculating on her condition. "I think people are beginning to suspect, Heath," she said quietly. Heath's face grew contemplative. "Then perhaps we need to make an announcement."
"I'm scared, Heath. I hardly know these people and yet I feel they will judge me and then you."
"We've discussed this Meg. As far as anyone will know I am the father. Whether or not we waited before we were married will interest only the gossips. We don't owe them or anyone an explanation."
"You sound so confident. I wish I had your confidence. I fear they will judge me more harshly than you."
"You forget, Meg, I am Tom Barkley's Bastard. For some people that will be excuse enough to tell me what they think. If I'm confident Meg it's because I want what we can have together and I think it's worth fighting for. We're still new to this, still getting to know each other but as far as I'm concerned I want to spend the next fifty years doing just that. I hope that's what you want, too."
Meg turned to face him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed nearest her, his bare bronzed feet waiting for their socks, his pants half-fastened waiting for him to tuck his shirt in and said blue shirt gaping revealing the fine bronzed chest underneath and the hair which crowned it. She was married to an Adonis, an Adonis who would laugh at such a ridiculous description of himself, but that just increased the attraction more. "I want that too, Heath. I want it so much. But the shame..."
"Shush now. There is no shame. I'll be the proudest husband when I am congratulated tonight on the news."
"Not tonight, Heath, please. It's too public. Please not tonight."
He sat up and leaned across claiming her still protesting lips. "Alright. We'll engage Mother to help us spread the news, but nothing is going to deprive me of receiving the congratulations a prospective father receives and the pride I have in my wife. I know for a fact I'm the envy of half the men in this county."
Meg laughed a delicious laugh which sent a flutter through his heart. "I thought exageration was Nick's territory."
"I'm telling the truth sweetheart and I tell you it makes me feel 7 foot tall."
"Oh Heath, you say the most beautiful things."
"Talking of beautiful things..." He pulled out the pendant and placed it around her neck, using the reflection in the mirror to position it just right, "Do you like it?"
Meg leaned back into her husband, "I love it but you know I love the picture inside it so much more."
"I was hoping you would say that," he teased, turning her around and taking her into his arms for a deep, possessive kiss that told Meg whatever the world thought about her this man loved her and that was all that mattered.
Later at the dance she and Heath shared a few dances before sitting down once again at their table. They sat apart from the rest of the Barkleys, enjoying some time on their own. A couple of elderly sisters sat opposite them, exchanging smiles and small talk with them. Clearly they enjoyed the young couple's company. Presently, they leaned across and asked Meg if congratulations were in order. Meg tensed and then felt her husband squeeze her hand under the table. "Yes, they are," she heard Heath say confidently. "My wife and I are expecting a baby."
Perhaps it was fortuitous that it happened to be these two gentle souls who guessed their secret for they welcomed the news so happily that Meg could only feel pride in her impending motherhood. Seeing their joy reminded her that this baby was not the problem she had perceived for so long; it was a cause for future happiness. Before long the news had got around the gathering and the couple were receiving congratulations from all directions. Heath couldn't stop smiling and Meg found herself feeling the same way. It was so unexpected - such an unexpected gift and she was grateful. Maybe some people's opinions would change over the course of the next few months but for now the young couple basked in the good wishes sent their way.
