Free Her Heart's Desire (Sunflower Series Book 1) by Linda Joyce

need, which meant doing everything in his
power to make sure she never got hurt. A parent’s duty, his father
had reminded him when he was young and interested in calf roping,
included finding the gift in a child and nurturing it. His dad had
supported his efforts in rodeoing, but Craig soon learned it wasn’t
his forte. However, Amelia’s gift was painting, and he hoped he’d
made his father proud doing all he could to help further his
sister’s career.
    Later that evening as the cookout came to a
close and guests departed one by one, Craig finished wiping off the
grills. The silence of the fields surrounded him. He tossed a dirty
cloth into a bucket. Looking through the screen door, he peered
inside the house. His line of sight to the kitchen was blocked by
the couch and the corner. Where had his sister disappeared to?
    “Hey, Amelia. Bring a couple of bottles and
let’s sit out here.”
    No sound came from within the house.
Gentleman Jack wandered from the yard where he’d been scouting for
rabbits and lay down at Craig’s feet. He petted the dog and called
out, “Amelia?”
    Still no answer.
    Craig opened the door and waited for Jack to
enter before following him in. “Jack, where’s Amelia? I haven’t
seen her for at least an hour.”
    Jack looked up at him as if to say, “You
really don’t know where she is?” The dog bolted toward the kitchen.
He sat at the door to Amelia’s studio and pawed like a person might
knock, but Amelia never answered. Strains of Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings hummed in the air. Craig opened the door.
Jack made a beeline for his bed, curled up, sighed, and closed his
eyes.
    Craig stood transfixed. He gazed at the
tabletop. A purposefully arranged setting of an antique lace doily
topped with a collection of different sizes and colors of bottles,
including a tall blue one of German Riesling he remembered
purchasing, matched the image on the large canvas before his
sister. Amelia’s detailed still life rivaled any of the masters.
Pride swelled in his chest. If he could sing, he’d launch into a Halleluiah everyone in the county could hear. Caterwauling is what his grandmother had called his singing
when he was young. Instead, he could do the he-man thing and beat
his chest, but that would embarrass his sister.
    After accusing him of lacking culture and
substance beyond the business world, Amelia had taught him about
art. He hoped by providing a studio for her in town, one day her
work would hang in several galleries and collectors would seek her
out.
    She educated him about her favorites, and he
particularly loved Jan Frans Van Dael’s Still Life with
Roses and Paul Cezanne’s Still Life with Cherries and
Peaches . Amelia’s still-life work radiated with intensity and
vibrant colors of those artists. She had said the old way of making
and mixing colors was a lost art, but oils were the only thing
she’d ever use to paint a still life. Her name graced only a
handful in all her years as a painter. These type of paintings
popped realistically on the canvas only when sadness overpowered
her, which meant something troubled her deeply now.
    And whatever troubled her, worried him.
    When the music ended, Craig started to call
out, but the music started from the beginning again, obviously on
continuous play. Amelia, lost in an art world, sat on a rolling
stool with a paintbrush in hand and swayed to the achingly,
haunting music. She daubed paint from the palette resting on an
old, wooden TV stand with wheels, which allowed her to roll around
while she painted, or to roll it out of the way, so Jack wouldn’t
hit it and knock it over whenever he bolted for the door.
    His sister never appreciated interruptions
when she worked, however he needed to speak with her. Had she taken
a deep melancholy plunge over seeing Karl and Zoë? When the two of
them returned from the creek, Zoë and Amelia acted in their usual
way, teasing and telling stories about their pigtail days. If
Amelia