“She reminds me of you.”
“I take that as compliment.”
“You should.”
I gaze out the window down at the Fleas. Lucie comes over and starts massaging my shoulders, kneading her strong fingers into the knots at the base of my neck. “Emma, love. We have to be all in. It won’t work otherwise.”
“I know.”
“Doyoulike her?” Lucie asks me, moving her hands to my shoulder blades, working her index finger into the soft tissue protecting the bone.
“Of course. And I trust her…I think.”
“Good.” Lucie abandons her massage and stretches her long arms overhead. “I’m going to sculpt for a few hours. I need to move my hands. Do you want any help with the paintings?”
“I need to go to the museum this afternoon to spend some more time with them. There are a few things I haven’t cracked yet. But I will. I have to get inside them. Once they let me in, it all comes together. Does that make sense?”
“So much.” She leans down and kisses me on the top of my head. “Get a few hours’ rest first. You look like shit, darling.”
“I will. Be safe,” I call as she struts out the door. This is what I always say to her, no matter where she’s going or what she’s about to do. I like her to know someone cares about her well-being. Not enough people in her life have.
I lied to Lucie. I’m scared. I want to trust Stella, I want to believe this all has a fairy-tale ending for three Cinderellas, but the real world doesn’t work that way.
The skin on my arms tingles as I think about getting back to the forgeries I’m painting. I can’t explain it, but the thought that something I’ve created, even if it’s an imitation, will hang on the walls of a place like the Orsay, where millions will get to see it, is a thrill like I’ve never experienced before. No matter how terrified I am of what’s about to happen, there’s no backing out now.
24
Claire
I must tellJo about Theo and me. The truth shouldn’t wait any longer. I think about it each and every day and I can almost hear Theo’s gentle voice speak the words in the letter Gachet gave me.
I have become enchanted by a young prostitute named Claire these past years. She is quite remarkable, witty, intelligent, and fascinated by the same things as me. She is the sort of woman you long to take care of. If I had not already promised myself to sweet Jo, I would be tempted to make her my own.
It is more romantic than any sentiment he ever expressed to me in life, and I blushed to read it and then grew horrified to think of Jo turning those words over in her mind. There may very well be more letters like it, and Jo could find one or be sent one any day.
The other letter Gachet gave me was equally heartbreaking. It was from Jo to Vincent himself soon after she married Theo. Her naked vulnerability in it, her desire for her brother-in-law to like her, breaks my heart as I read it.
Finally the time has come for your new sister to talk to you instead of just asking Theo to give you her best wishes. Now we are really brother and sister. I would be truly pleased if you got to know me a little better. If you could learn to love me a little.
I should give her both of these, knowing both will tweak her heart and perhaps break it in a different way. But I cannot do it today. First I must ask her for the money to help my daughter.
When I approach Jo in the grand four-story reading room of the Rijksmuseum, she glares up at me. Could she already know why I’ve come?
“The stars inTheStarry Nightresemble doughnuts? Doughnuts? The gall of them to write that!” I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s reading Vincent’s reviews again. Her ire has nothing to do with me. “This one is even worse. He says that daring to exhibit such shoddy work is scandalous!”
I stifle a laugh. The stars in Vincent’s rendering of the night sky do look a bit like puffy pastries. I wish Jo could laugh along with me at the ridiculous description, but she sees every criticism of Vincent as a slight against her.
“You can’t keep reading these. You’re always telling me that the critics are rubbish. That most of them will only be remembered for what they don’t understand. When you put on this many shows you are bound to get a variety of opinions,” I tell her. “And you don’t do yourself any service by focusing on the negative ones. Remember all the wonderful reviews.”
“You are right.” Jo sighs, rubbing her tired eyes. “As usual.”
“Most of what is now being written about him comes directlyfrom your lips. Your ideas about Vincent have crawled into their brains and taken root.”
“If you say something enough to the same people, it does become gospel.” She finally smiles wryly.
I glance around the silent room. “I thought Johan was coming with you.”
“He left for the country to paint. It will be a relief. He’s been terribly neurotic lately.”
