Free The Gifted Ones: A Reader by Maria Elizabeth Romana

around the perimeter, studying the products of many different artists, some exquisitely talented, and others, like the one she was currently examining, not so much. She looked up as Willow emerged from a doorway at the back of the room, carrying a brightly colored clay pot. She set the pot down on a table near Ellie as she spoke, “Sorry to keep you waiting, hon, but I promised one of the students I’d check on this for her. She’s trying to catch up on her Mandarin lessons.”
    “Mandarin…”
    “Chinese. Maya’s a Communicator. Real gift for languages, that one. It’s amazing to listen to her chattering away with Ones all around the world.”
    “Ones?” Ellie scrunched up her nose. Maybe she was just tired, but this Willow person was confusing her.
    “Yes, dear, Gifted Ones.” Willow shifted her gaze from the pottery to Ellie’s face. She wrinkled her brow. “Hasn’t anyone…”
    “Hasn’t anyone what?”
    “Miss Willow!” They were interrupted by a gleeful greeting from little Poppy Prentiss bursting back into the room with Angel close at her heels. Poppy ran directly to Willow and wrapped her arms around the woman’s long skirt.
    Willow forgot about her conversation with Ellie and picked up the little girl, settling her on to one hip. She picked a couple sticks of hay out of Poppy’s hair. “Poppy, have you been running Angel all over the farm?”
    “Boy, I’ll say!” Angel collapsed into a chair and brushed a few strands of hair back from her face. “Give me a roomful of Samurai swordsmen, and I’m all over it, but this kid? She could beat down the greatest Defender on the planet.”
    Willow grinned. “I thought that was you.”
    Angel straightened up in her chair and dusted a little dirt off her leather pants. “Well, it is. Just a little tired from the last twenty-four hours. And hungry.” She looked at Ellie. “How ’bout you, chica? You ready for some supper?”
    Ellie’s tummy was growling, but she ignored the food question. “Wait, Gifted Ones? Defender? Am I missing something?”
    Angel stood. “Ah, I’m going to let Joe tackle that. C’mon, let’s see if we can find you some clothes. Renni doesn’t allow denim in the dining room.”
    “Wait!” Poppy wriggled away from Willow and darted to one of the other tables. “I made you a picture, Angel.” She picked up a paper from the table and brought it to Angel. “Miss Willow told me to draw my favorite person, and she gave me the colored pencils. See? It’s you!”
    Angel took the picture and held it up. She grinned broadly. “Quite the imagination! I look like a princess.”
    The child was gleeful. “Yes, yes, you are a princess.”
    Angel reached down to the little girl and mussed her hair. “It’s beautiful, honey, I love it! I’m going to frame it and hang it on the wall.”
    Ellie stepped over to see the Princess Angel image, expecting a typical child’s drawing of a stick figure, dressed in a pink triangle and maybe a crown. When she saw the picture, however, she gasped. “Sh-she did this?”
    Willow joined them in admiring Poppy’s drawing. “Impressive, isn’t it? Art therapy is such a wonderful way for children to express themselves. And Poppy’s so good with colored pencil. It’s a more complex medium than most people think.”
    “Complex?” Ellie blinked in bewilderment. “This is the most amazing drawing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s just…” Words escaped her. The picture was an upper body shot of Angel, with soft curling hair tumbling over the shoulders, eyes sparkling, and a smile as sublime as the Mona Lisa. A necklace with a single, simple stone was drawn in, hanging just below the neck, and the top of a pink ruffled gown dipped below that. Other than the ultra-feminine touches, the likeness was remarkable. But the image’s brilliance went beyond that, beyond color and contrast and shading. There was a haunting depth of emotion that the most skilled artist could not have