Igradedthelastassignment Sister Agatha had given for the class.
One of the students, Lucy Drent, had managed to capture the morning sunlight as it fell golden on a painted red rose.
Smiling, I traced the line of the dried watercolors which had soaked into the thick paper and closed my eyes.
Sometimes I miss seeing with my fingers.
My senses weren't nearly as sharp as before I could see, but my fingertips could still pick out the minute changes in textures and know what colors had been used.
I missed creating art for the sheer joy of creation. Since the wreck, I rarely lifted a brush for pleasure.My talents are better served teaching others.Yet I wasn't even a certified teacher—only an aid.
By serving God, I'd hoped it would appease that nagging sense of guilt.
But it hasn't.
The only thing that gave me any sort of relief from the oppressive guilt came in the form of thievery. I'd laugh if I didn't feel like crying.
How do I ever expect to become a full-fledged sister and live a sin-free life when I steal things from others?
The things I took were small, little personal mementoes such as a business card, or an ID—and I always returned the items—but I still felt as if the objects begged me to touch their surface, to guess their owners' secrets.
Setting the pen down, I brushed my teeth and changed into soft, flannel pajamas. After hanging my uniform in my closet, I turned to stare at the small room. Its dimensions were not much bigger than the one farther down the hall where I'd lived as a child.
God. Please, I don't want to feel so empty and alone.
Sure, I gave my time and knowledge to the abandoned and neglected children under our protection, but deep down in my soul, something was still missing from my life.
I sat on my made bed and opened the nightstand drawer. The silver hairpin, with its red ruby circled by black diamonds, made my heart squeeze in pain. I'd worn it every day until after the wreck, when I'd decided to abandon my dream of becoming an artist.
Sighing, I passed over the beautiful gift.I should throw it away tomorrow.I sorted through pens and paper as I looked for the small case that held my earbuds, my fingers brushing against the soft black feather I'd pilfered all those years ago.
Moving it closer to the small lamp's light, I studied the intricate pattern of fibers.I should throw this away too.Yet even after everything, I could not.
I closed my eyes and calmed my breathing, drawing a mental image of the feather's sharp tip with my fingers, as I'd done when I'd been blind, as I did with everything I stole.
Sometimes, when I did this mental trick, my mind's eye created images, as if the trinkets and baubles carried the feelings of their owners.
I stroked the silky feather along my jawbone, enjoying the tickling sensation.
Even now, I missed Lucian, yet I hated him for what he'd done to my friends and my life.
Is it possible to love and hate someone?
The shame of what I felt for him burned in my heart as the tiny fingers of the feather caressed my skin in a thousand soft kisses.
Sighing, I let the emotions of the feather paint themselves in my canvas of my mind.
A shimmering image of someone standing near a bed bloomed to life. Through the figure's eyes, he watched a woman sitting perfectly still, her eyes closed, as if concentrating.
He ran a finger along her jawbone, following the path of a black feather, and whispered, "My Anna."
Wait. What?Shock coursed through me. The woman wasme, which meant…
My eyelids flew open.
Lucian stood before me; his lithe body covered in a simple black suit with the bright ruby attached to a mandarin collar.
Dropping the feather, I shot to my feet and grabbed his wrist. "Don't touch me." I shoved his arm away. "What the hell are you doing here?"
