“Care to share?” Jason raised his generous brow in anticipation.

         “Her name was Victoria.”

         “As in Victoria’s Cove?”

         “Yes. She was born in 1852 and died in 1882. What happened in the years between are embedded inside that tower. Victoria was a gifted and loving child. As an adult, she was well-studied, generous and quite beautiful. I’ve seen some portraits and her eyes reveal a depth rarely captured on canvas.”

         “I’m enthralled. Please continue.”

         “Victoria had a wonderful life, until she met Paul. She was twenty-four when they met and had a brief courtship. Victoria relinquished her aspirations of becoming a writer at Paul’s insistence and settled into married life. Paul wanted a large family and Victoria agreed. Her first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. So did her second and third. Several years later, with no children, Paul became impatient. He blamed Victoria for her inability to conceive and their marriage began to transform into something quite dark. Rumors of affairs and abuse started to surface. Victoria became a recluse, spending much of her days inside that tower.”

         “He broke her spirit?” Jason sighed.

         “And her heart. In those final years, she spiraled into despair and depression. She long suspected Paul’s infidelities and toward the end, he flaunted his affairs, announcing that he was anticipating fatherhood with another woman.”

         “How do you know all of this?”

         “Victoria kept a diary. I have it now. The last entry was made the day she died.”

         “Such a waste. So, he finally drove her to suicide?”

         “No. That’s not how she died. Although, that’s how her death was recorded. Paul pushed her to her death. I’m convinced of it. “

         “How can you be sure?”

         “Victoria. She’s been haunting me over this for years.”

         “You don’t say?” Jason prodded further.

         Elliot buried his head into his palm, allowing his dark, wavy hair to fall unto his sulking brow. “No, I don’t say. Not to anyone. This is not something I discuss over coffee or even cocktails with close friends. So why am I telling you now?”


 

         Jason sighed deeply as Elliot composed himself. “It’s my art. Sometimes it attracts lost souls, like some kind of strange antenna. Guess the equipment is still working. This hasn’t happened in a while. But then, I came here.”

         Elliot smiled and nodded. “You’ve attracted Victoria’s attention. She’s chosen to reach me through your canvas. This is a new media for her. Previously, she’s floated across the waves late at night, or scaled the shadows of the tower or haunted my dreams. This is her boldest statement yet.“

         “My canvas?”

         “Please tell me you realize that you’ve painted her into the tower?” Elliot begged while focusing on the feminine silhouette.

         “Ahh, you’re referring to that shadowy woman at the highest point of the tower. Yes, I did imagine a presence standing there looking out onto the ocean. Is that Victoria?”

         “It’s her.”

         “She was put there out of sheer necessity to personify the energy I’ve tapped into here. Her image migrated from my mind unto the canvas, but then so does most everything else. My technique has always hinged on sensing energy and transforming it unto the canvas.”

         “So, she’s gotten into your head. Beware my friend, this is just the beginning.”

         “Oh, I disagree. I’ve had to acknowledge disembodiments and entities throughout many of my pieces. But when the final brush stroke is made, the story is told and the spirit is put to rest. I suspect Victoria has been wanting to tell you something for a long time. What do you suppose it is?”

         “Well, if I were to venture a guess, you are in the process of illustrating the final moments leading to her death.”

         "Then, by all means, let Victoria tell her story."

         Jason placed a fresh white canvas on his easel and recreated the tower in oil, confident Victoria would claim occupancy. Elliot watched mesmorized as Jason breathed life into the mystical picture show.

         Victoria once again appeared at the top of the tower, but this time she was joined by the silhouette of a man. The tower itself cast a gray shadow across the cove, turning the ocean a murky shade of green with white caps strong enough to slice through rocks.

         "It's taken on a darker quality now that he's there with her," Elliot sulked.

         "Yes, the colors have all grayed and the water is distinctly ominous and foreboding," Jason added while furiously painting.

          One by one, the eleven other easels withdrew from high tide's claim. Hours counted by unnoticed as the sun shifted west to begin its descent beyond the horizon. "I've got to stop. This is zapping all of my energy," Jason sighed while falling into his seldom used folding chair.

         "You've been at this for hours. Please, let me buy you dinner," Elliot offered.

         "Victoria is quite persistent isn't she?"

         "Yes, she is."

         "Dinner sounds good. And perhaps a sip of Merlot," Jason suggested.

         "Great, I know a place just down the coast that serves a mean chowder and brisket."

         "Sounds good. Lead the way."





 

         The two tired men meandered up toward the road carrying the paintings along with Jason's tools. They carefully placed the pieces in the back of his aged black pickup beneath a covered bed.

         “Follow me up the coast a few miles, okay?,” Elliot injected, hoping Jason was still receptive to his invitation.

         “Okay.”

         Within five minutes, they came to a stop in front of a beach bungalow with a rooftop sign lettered, The Crow’s Nest. They made themselves comfortable at a corner table facing the ocean, each anticipating a long overdue meal. A bottle of Merlot sat between them, uncorked and ready to be consumed. Jason eagerly poured two full glasses and rolled the first sip across his tongue like a true connoisseur. “Ahhh, that felt good!”

         Elliot was a bit more apprehensive, concerned about the effect wine would have on his driving ability. He took a tiny sip to oblige Jason’s obvious need to unwind.

         “Your Victoria is quite the lady, isn’t she?”

         “She’s not my Victoria, but yes I’d have to agree. She’s quite special.”

         “I can’t recall experiencing this much intensity with a canvas. Paul's spirit is struggling with hers to hide the truth from us. The water and the rocks project the conflict in the second piece. Each brush stroke argues its angle. The whole damn thing is exhausting me,” Jason gulped another sip.

         “Will you be able to finish?”

         “Damn straight! I can’t leave a thing like this hanging around unfinished. Victoria has to tell her story. I guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

         “Mind if I watch?”

         “Heck no. I may need reinforcements when this Paul fellow attempts to repeat history. It could get ugly.”

         “Don’t quite follow you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

         “ The truth will play itself out.”

          “And vindicate Victoria? That‘s a good thing from where I stand. Maybe then she‘ll rest in peace. And then so can I.”

         “Are you sure about that?”

         “What do you mean Jason?”

         “Okay, let me ask you this. How do you feel about witnessing Victoria’s murder?”

         “Oh, I see your point. That will not be easy.”

         “Perhaps you might want to intervene...save her life?”

         “But is that possible? We‘re talking about something from the past. Surely we can‘t alter history? Much as I‘d like to send Paul to the pits of hell, I can‘t see that as an option.”

         “What if it was?”

         “What are you saying, Jason?”

         “Don’t think in one dimension. Approach art as an alternative means of communication. It can tell a story, convey a feeling, fight a war or…”

         “Reveal the truth.”

         “But even more….it can reverse a truth. It can repaint an ending…....for posterity.”

         “But how?”

         “Meet me at the cove tomorrow at dawn and I’ll show you.”

         Elliot took a long sip from his glass, considering the implications as a waitress filled the small table with double orders of chowder and beef brisket. The two shared their meal without discussing Victoria any further, both knowing tomorrow could very well change history.”


 

         What is the significance of twenty-four hours? Usually it means the passing of a day. For Elliot and Victoria, it held the potential to turn back time. Jason’s words clung to images of Victoria and kept Elliot from sleep most of the night. Dawn was an eternity away and then suddenly crept up to find Elliot scrambling to beat the clock.

         Morning clarity was not to be found. As Elliot parked near the cove, he immediately spotted Jason unloading his truck and joined him.

         “Morning, Jason,” he offered in a distinctly somber voice.

         “Top of the morning, Elliot. How’d you sleep last night?”

         “Didn’t much. But you probably could have guessed that.”

         “Sorry about that. Are you ready to send Paul to the great below?”

         “I’m confused. Please tell me how we’re going to do this?”

         “Questions. Always questions,” Jason snickered. “Soon enough, lad. Soon enough.”

         The two men set up the artist’s easel in the same spot it stood yesterday. The mood was distinctly dark. The air held a chill and gray clouds masked the morning’s glory. The cove was strangely empty, void of other artists or even a stray scavenger. An idol threat of morning showers washed ashore with rushing whitecaps, but only served to set the mood for the task at hand.

         When the silence could no longer hold, Jason turned toward Elliot and stared squarely into his anxious eyes.

         “Do you want to help Victoria?”

         “Of course I do.”

         “Then I must paint you into the picture....into the top of the tower. You must fight the demon for her.”

         Elliot gasped while attempting to comprehend the implications.

         “But, it can only happen if you are willing.”

         Elliot gave Jason a look of disbelief. "You can't be serious about this?"

         "Why not? It's been done before."

         "By you?"

         "Just once. About twenty years ago, I painted a man into a picture to be with his recently departed wife. They both longed to be together and I just assisted in fulfilling their wishes."

          Incredulously Elliot stared silently at Jason, realizing he meant every word. "You're saying his image joined hers on canvas. That's a fitting tribute to honor the death of a loved one. Nothing wrong there."

         "He dwelled inside that picture with her. In fact, they're still both there, roaming the countryside blissfully together."

         "I guess having that image has helped the fellow to cope with her loss after all this years. He must have loved her deeply."

         "Couldn't say. I never saw him again after the painting was completed."





 

         “I need a moment to clear my head. Perhaps I'll take a walk and think about all of this.”

         “Yes, thinking is always good.”

         Elliot traced the shoreline with his footprints, as he’d done countless times before. Images of Victoria struggling with Paul at the top of tower flooded his mind. Was he prepared to stand by and do nothing? Was Jason really capable of painting him into the picture to save Victoria? Could he live with himself if he didn’t at least try? Elliot starred up at the tower and tried to come to terms with his options....and his feelings for Victoria. He turned back toward Jason, in need of more answers.

         As Elliot approached, Jason was diligently working on the third rendition, again capturing the dark mystery of the ocean’s ebb as it ripped against the jagged shoreline rocks.

         Elliot was instantly drawn into the image. “Your style is captivating. Those waves have such lucidity.”

         “I have to make sure every detail is as authentic as it was on that day.”

         “Jason, if I do this for Victoria, what becomes of her? She’s still dead. She’s still unable to live out her life.”

         “Perhaps.”

         “That’s rather vague. The answer should be either yes or no.”

         “Victoria has relived her death thousands of times. She’s trapped in a world that very few see. You and I catch glimpses of it because we know it exists. Imagine she would never have to relive the horror of her death again…..never having to fall against those unforgiving rocks…..never have to drown in a pool of salt water and blood….never have to wash up on the shore like a rag doll torn to shreds.”

         “So what becomes of me when this is done?”

         “That is up to you.”

         “I can return, right? I want to return. I need to come back!”

         “Which of the three of us are you trying to convince? Hear tell over supper last night, you've got little in this life holding you back.”

         “I really don’t have a choice here. I can’t imagine not doing this for her. How could I live with myself?”

         “Everything has been leading up to this moment,” Jason said while focused on the evolving canvas.

         “That’s a dramatic appraisal, don’t you think?”

         “Elliot, let's forget about this moment. Let's forget about Victoria’s tragic end. Just forget about all of the years you’ve felt empty and alone. Now, just imagine today you are going to meet the love of your life. Imagine you could transcend space and time and come face to face with your true destiny. That, my son, is the drama of a life fully realized.”

         Elliot knew Jason was on to something, yet was drawn even more into the details of the latest painting. “What is that you are adding?...there beyond the tower?”

         “I’m not quite sure, perhaps it’s something that existed in that day. At this point, I’m not in complete control of the image, but it appears to be a cottage.”

         “There was a seaside cottage when Victoria was alive. It was washed away by a storm about sixty years ago. She spent some happy days there writing before she married Paul.”

         Elliot stood watching as Jason methodically painted his future and Victoria’s past with each precise brush stroke. Darkness above began to break apart, offering glimpses of approaching sunshine through feathered clouds.

         “The weather is starting to cooperate a little. It will be time to finish soon...before the beach gets busy with activity.”

         “Yes, I know. You’re waiting for my answer. And you’ve probably known all along what it would be.”

         “I don’t presume to know you mind. But perhaps, I do sense what is in your heart. Only you can decide which one to follow.”



 

         “What needs to be done?”

         “First of all, take a deep breath. Prepare yourself for the journey. Imagine yourself in the tower with Victoria and Paul. Plan your defense.”

         “I’m not a violent man. But my hostility has been building toward Paul for a long time now. I understand from Victoria’s diary, he is quite strong. Although, he was also a heavy drinker. I would imagine the alcohol was working on him that day. I’d hate to think he was in his right mind when he did that to her.”

         “I can give you the advantage...and you will have the element of surprise working for you.”

         “Advantage?”

         “A weapon perhaps.”

         “A gun?” Elliot questioned.

         “A knife.”

         “What would you do in my place?”

         “I’d want every possible advantage. Imagine going to all this trouble and failing.”

         “Okay, I’ll take a knife. But make it a little one, and keep it withdrawn. I won’t pull it unless necessary.”

         “Fair enough. I’ll paint it clipped onto your belt. Anything else?”

         Elliot thought for a moment. “Yes, I’d like you to add a fresh gardenia bush in full bloom beside the cottage. It’s Victoria’s favorite flower.”

         “Gardenias it is! Now stand still and ready. God speed, my friend.”

         Elliot closed his eyes and imagined himself in the midst of conflict. Jason began to paint him into the tower between Victoria and Paul's images. With each brush stroke, Elliot began to feel slightly weakened, until finally his presence was nearly translucent on the shoreline. Jason quickly completed the task of painting Elliot into the tower, added some last minute landscape details, then sat in his chair and watched.

         Elliot quickly became oriented to being in the tower. He glanced at Victoria for a moment, but dared not gaze too long into her eyes, knowing he could easily get lost in them. Instead he turned toward Paul.

         “Who are you? How dare you interfere?” Paul yelled. “This isn’t any of your business!”

         “How dare you? I’m making it my business,” Elliot screamed back while swinging wildly in Paul’s direction without making contact.

         The two figures struggled near the tower’s ledge as Victoria watched. Paul forced Elliot perilously close to the edge of the drop off point then snickered while relishing his advantage. It was in that instant Elliot had one chance to draw his knife. But before he could, Victoria decided to take action. She charged toward Paul and pushed him over the edge of the tower. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm. He began to tumble over the side with Victoria as his unwilling companion. Elliot lunged and scooped Victoria toward him to save her from following Paul over the side. She clung to her hero and watched Paul drop to his final fate, then buried her head in the safety of Elliot's chest as he clung tightly to her.

         “Well, whatta you know! He didn’t need the knife after all. Victoria took care of business!” Jason cheered while staring at the painting from his unique vantage point.

         “Victoria, it's okay,” Elliot reassured her with a soothing voice.

         “Elliot, you left everything behind to come here and challenge Paul,” Victoria said through labored breath as she gazed into his anxious eyes.

         “No, I thought I was coming here to save you, but actually you've just became your own savior.”

         “You gave me a reason to fight Paul. I’m afraid going back will not be as easy.”

         “I understand. Guess you might be stuck with me.”

         “The way you’ve been stuck with me all these years?”

         “It’s a mutual destiny now.”

         “Please, let’s leave this place. I don’t ever want to come up to this tower again.”

         “Then we never will.”

         The two strolled down to the beach and walked toward the cottage, lined with endless gardenia bushes in full fragrant bloom.

         “Gardenias everywhere! Where did they come from? Are you a magician as well as a hero?” Victoria exclaimed while inhaling the intoxicating scent of the perfect white beauties.

         Elliot watched her do a graceful flower dance across the picture perfect row of endless blooms. It was in that instant that he caught a glimpse of a weathered family crest mounted above the cottage entrance with the name 'Proctor' engraved in the center. "Well, I'll be! Victoria, do you mind if I ask who built this cottage?"

         "It was built by my grandfather on my mother's side. His name was Jason Proctor."

         He reached for his knife, cut a perfect single bud and carefully placed it in Victoria's flowing auburn hair.

         “Jason is the magician,” he murmured, knowing he had made the right choice.

The End...And The Beginning



RubyRed

Write from your heart.....but first, listen to your soul

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