Free Love Comes Silently(Senses 1) by Andrew Grey Page B

rolled over, cuddling her doll, and Ken quietly left the room, closing the door partway before he walked back to the living room. Ken flopped down in his chair and turned on the television. After ten minutes, he still had no idea what he was watching—some show about icebergs or something. In the silence, he sat, and the image for the painting began to play in his head. Ken got out of the chair, walked to his studio, and grabbed a brush and paints.
    He didn’t do anything as dramatic as close his eyes; he didn’t need to. The image he wanted was right in front of him. He’d been seeing it in hismind for hours. Patrick’s eyes already stared out at him for the canvas, and he was about to start work when he rushed back inside, then returned with two CDs that he placed in the player. Beautiful music began to play, and then the richest, deepest voice Ken had ever heard began to sing, and he felt tears come to his eyes knowing that voice was gone forever. Without thinking, Ken picked up his brush and got to work.
    For hours, he worked on the nose and cheeks, getting just the right shade and coloration. Then he moved to the throat to get the muscles just right, and the chin lifted ever so slightly. Once he had that, he moved to the mouth, and then stopped, his brush paused just above the canvas as the music ceased and the room fell quiet. The spell broken, Ken stood without moving for a few moments, almost afraid to place his brush on the canvas. He thought of starting the music again, but he didn’t want to do that. Slowly, he set his brush down and stepped away from the easel, staring at the unfinished work. He still had hours of work to complete it, but he was amazed by what he’d gotten done so far. After cleaning everything up, Ken left the studio, turning off the lights after himself, and headed upstairs.
    Ken checked on Hanna before heading to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed. He turned out the light and climbed beneath the crisp, cool sheets, shivering a few times before his skin warmed. Staring up at the ceiling, he willed the unsettled feeling away, but it wouldn’t leave. Part of him wanted to jump back out of bed and go to work again, but Ken knew he couldn’t force it. His mind needed time to process what he was feeling and what he was really striving to get onto that canvas. Closing his eyes, he rolled onto his side and tried to calm the pictures that continually flashed in his head. It was funny, but he hadn’t been in the mood to paint at all for months, since Hanna’s diagnosis and Mark’s departure, but now he couldn’t stop image after image from flooding his mind. Eventually, Ken got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt before hurrying back to the studio. He set aside the painting he’d been working on, put another canvas on the easel, and went to work, this time on a huge canvas that would be life-sized. He knew exactly what he wanted to paint, but he had to start on the face.
    Ken worked for hours before eventually curling up on the sofa with the blanket Hanna had used pulled up over him, and he didn’t wake until he felt Hanna shake him. “Daddy, I’m really hot,” Hanna said, and Ken flew off the sofa like he’d been shot.
    Ken’s heart skipped a beat as he touched Hanna’s forehead. She had a slight fever, and he lifted his daughter into his arms and carried her back through the house to the sofa, where he laid her down and then covered her with a blanket. “I’ll be right back,” he told her before getting a glass of juice. After he returned, Ken set down the glass and turned on the television for her. Once she was settled, Ken went back to the kitchen and called the doctor. Thankfully, he was put right through. He told Dr. Pierson that Hanna had a slight fever, but she didn’t seem too concerned.
    “There’s a lot of bugs going around right now. Make sure she rests and gets plenty of fluids. If the fever doesn’t go away in the next day or