Lost and Found (Growing Pains #1)(9)

“This was when you were corporeal. When you were warning me. It’s when the most enormous waves I have ever seen emerged. Suddenly we were on a beach and waves were coming in as normal. But you kept warning me. Telling me not to go too close, because a big one could come in at any moment. I remember being confused at the warning. Wanting to play, but you kept holding me back.”

Ben turned to her, painting forgotten. His eyes were huge and haunted. “Krista, those waves—the fear was worse than any nightmare I can remember having. They blotted out the sky. We could see them building. Coming after us. You nearly dragged me, trying to get me to run. But the undertow was sucking us back. It was—I was terrified. And then—I remember this very clearly—you turned to me, grabbed me by the arms, and said, ‘We will be overtaken. When I say, hold your breath, and hope we can breathe underwater this time.’ That’s when I woke up.”

Krista stared at him in mute horror.

“You’ve had those wave dreams before, haven’t you?” Ben asked soberly.

“I think you really are clairvoyant, Ben. Holy hell.”

“But you’ve had those wave dreams?”

She nodded. “Lately, as a matter of fact. I don’t usually go under anymore. They started after I found out what Jim really was. What I’d got myself into.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “Jim?”

Oh, yeah. She hadn’t told Ben why she’d left Seattle. The real reason. She’d always just said she needed a change of venue, never hinting that there was a reason behind it.

And then she was purging.

She told Ben about her job, and that first week. Then her mug. Also about what happened the last time she lost a lucky mug. Then, because she had opened the vault, and it was already on the table, and maybe, too, because Ben was hanging on her every word as if she was giving directions to a pile of gold, she just went ahead and told him the broad strokes about why she left Seattle. Miraculously, she didn’t cry once.

When she was done, Ben was nodding with a furrowed brow. “That makes sense. What about the ocean part, though? Where does that fit in?”

“I told you—the waves started with Jim.”

“No, not the waves. The blues. The deep current under everything. The waves were strong emotion. That makes sense. But it wasn’t a past…situation. It was present. This was all very present. Very now. There was ocean.” He was looking at her as if he wanted to unhinge her head and have a look instead.

“Ben, you are under the impression this relates to me simply because I was in it.”

He shook his head as he crossed his arms across his chest. The red on the brush was drying, but still managed to smear his coveralls. “Oh no, Krista, not only that. I am quite perceptive with emotional nuances. I am like a woman in that respect. I draw off it for my art. I hone in on it, you might say. You’ve been … turbulent lately. I’ve paid more attention than normal. I apologize, but it is great art.”

“That, umm, seems like a violation of privacy? Maybe? Pirating emotion, perhaps?”

“You never said, how was your day?”

“It was bad.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. You did say. I’m afraid I just botched that again. I’m sorry.”

Krista shook her head and heaved herself out of the chair. She approached the canvas, warning Ben with a finger that terrible things would happen if he hugged her with paint all over him. They turned toward it together.

It was a large rectangle half-covered in every shade of red that could be created. The strokes were broad and bold. Thick layers coated, piling on top of each other. Yellow and orange—what Ben had called hope—were under that, creating a background layer. It looked like a kid had found a bunch of finger paints and went wild.

“And that dream, with the waves and beach and stuff, is what you are drawing?”

Ben nodded, looking at the canvas with a crease between his eyebrows. “Painting, yes.”

“Huh.”

“I am not quite getting the emotion of it. I’m missing a very important piece. Your background helps—I’ll incorporate that—but I’m still missing something.”

She didn’t feel like asking how he planned to incorporate anything with the expectation that people would know what it was, so she said, “Hmm.”

“Ocean. Why ocean?” Ben asked himself thoughtfully, turning to gaze at her in thought.

“Well…we are right next to it. Maybe because you hear it?”

“I thought of that, but no. That’s not it.”

“I run by it? I like it?”

Ben turned back to his easel. “I don’t think that’s it. There is something else taking your concentration.”

“Well…” Strangely perplexed, even though this was more than just a bit illogical, Krista leaned in to look at the assortment of reds. “My job is taking its toll.”

Ben shook his head.

“Well… Oh! I just made up with a guy that originally asked me out and I turned down. I was a bitch about it—I didn’t mean to be. He kind of sur--”

Ben threw his hands up in exasperation. “Ben! How could you miss that?” He turned to Krista with an expression that said he thought himself the stupidest person on the face of the plant. “A man! I didn’t even think of that! You definitely tend to spend a lot of your time in sexual overtones.”