Free The Secret Chord: The Virtuosic Spy - Book 2 by Kathryn Guare

talent—not quite so much if they think you don't have any. The art collector isn't operating under either impression. He wants to commission a companion piece."
    "And you don't think you can do it." From her responding glare Conor saw he'd touched a nerve.
    "I don't think I can do it? I know I can't do it. I believe I've mentioned this before, Conor. I can't paint." She flung an arm at the blank canvas across the room. "I can't even bring myself to put a mark on it. It sits there and I come in every few weeks to dust it, for God's sake. I've tried therapy, meditation—I even tried hypnosis, if you can believe that. Nothing works."
    "What about focusing on art, instead of yourself?" Conor asked. "Have you tried that?"
    "Have I tried focusing on art instead of myself ?" Kate looked stunned, and then extremely angry. "I suppose to you this all seems like some self-induced, navel-gazing melodrama?"
    "Ehm, no, that's not—"
    "You insensitive bastard!"  
    She came out of her chair, gathering wits and breath for a withering explosion. Conor knew it would concuss any second and silently cursed Abigail for setting off this crisis. His question had been intentional, but not skillfully phrased. He didn't have a lot of time to get it right.
    "Okay wait, wait. That's not exactly what I meant to say." He rose from his seat as well, hands waving in self-defense, and took a step backward. "Will you ever let me explain before you eat the head off me?"
    With exaggerated patience Kate stood in front of him, eyebrows raised in wordless, hostile inquiry. He took another step back, collided with the arm of the sofa, and abruptly sat down.
    "Holy Mother, what am I like?" He caught himself before he pitched over backwards. "Listen. I didn't mean to be insensitive. I actually do understand how it feels, when the one thing you thought you were born for seems completely out of reach."
    The chilliness in her eyes warmed a degree, encouraging him to continue.
    “You get the idea that everything has slipped away from you. You can't remember where it came from in the first place, or how to get it back, and then you start wondering if it's gone for good . . .” He trailed off, looking at the blank canvas. Enveloped in its shroud-like covering it presented an uncomfortably obvious metaphor. Struggling for composure, Kate finished for him.
    "That's the most terrifying thought of all, isn't it?"
    "Yes," he whispered.
    Silently, Conor prayed for the moment to pass, not knowing what he might do this time if she cried, but she found a distraction, picking up wadded balls of drawing paper from the floor. With a soft groan he swung his legs over the sofa and sank into the cushions, knowing he was snared and that he'd half-consciously set the trap himself. He should have avoided coming close to her like this, but he couldn't; he should refuse now to be drawn in deeper but when she came and sat next to him, he knew he wouldn't.
    "I don't know what to do."
    Hearing the weariness in her voice Conor automatically circled an arm around her shoulders. "I'd say the first thing is to get away from this bloody canvas for a while. Gives me the fear, the way it's looking at us. Do you fancy a bit of music? I've something in mind that works best at sunset."

8

    S QUINTING UP AT THE SETTING SUN C ONOR CHOSE A SPOT for them, pointing his violin case at the top of the pasture across the road. They reached the picnic bench and sat with the case lying open on the grass in front of them, revealing a much older instrument than Kate had expected. Gleaming with a brandy-colored finish and nestled in a cocoon of green velvet, the violin rested inside like a rare antique, too brittle to be touched.  
    "How beautiful." She spoke as though cooing into the cradle of a fragile newborn.
    Conor lifted the violin and began tuning, hands brisk and self-assured. As he ran a bow over the strings the instrument came alive with drones and animated squeaks, dispelling some of Kate's