Grand Passion

“I think it's beautiful.”
    “Beautiful?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
    “More than beautiful. It's fascinating.”
    Cleo's hands began to move again on his thigh. “Really?”
    Max opened his eyes and looked down at her averted face. “Reading it is like looking into a fine painting. There are hundreds of layers to see. Some are obvious, others aren't. Some can be described, but the most important ones can't be put into words at all. You have to feel them.”
    Cleo flashed him a misty smile. “You sound like Jason when you talk like that. He said some people see art with another eye.”
    “He called it the inner eye.”
    “That's right.” She tilted her head a little to one side. “Is that how you see art?”
    “Yes.”
    “It sounds strange. Can you see into people the same way?”
    “Not usually,” Max admitted. But I'm learning to see you that way, he thought. The knowledge went through him like wildfire. The more he knew about Cleo, the more he wanted her. This was exactly how he felt when he was in the presence of a fine painting that spoke directly to him.
    He wanted her .
    “You're lucky you can't see into people the way you do art.” Cleo continued to stroke his leg. “I can sometimes, and it's very frustrating for the most part.”
    He studied the sweet, vulnerable line at the nape of her neck. “Why do you say that?”
    “Because it doesn't do much good. Even when you can see things about people, you usually can't change them.”
    “You sound like you're talking from experience.”
    “I am.” Cleo looked up, her eyes troubled. “The reason Trisha was sobbing her heart out tonight is because she just found out she's pregnant. She says Benjy left because she told him about the baby.”
    “I see. I'm sorry about Trisha, she seems like a nice enough kid. But what does her situation have to do with what we were talking about?”
    Cleo's shoulder rose and fell in a small shrug. “I knew the first time I saw Trisha and Benjy together that they would cling to each other. They're two of a kind. Two orphans in a storm. I wasn't surprised when their friendship turned into a romance. But I also knew it could lead to disaster.”
    “Why?”
    “Because both Benjy and Trisha have had to be so strong in order to just survive, that they're both very fragile when it comes to dealing with other people. Does that make sense?”
    “I don't know,” Max said.
    “Take my word for it. Adding a baby to the equation was just too much stress. Especially for Benjy. He's never had a father of his own, and I imagine the thought of becoming one himself terrified him. No wonder he disappeared for a while.”
    Max touched a stray lock of Cleo's hair. She did not seem to notice. “You're not to blame for Trisha's situation.”
    “My point is that I could see deeply enough into both Trisha and Benjy to know that this mess Trisha's in was almost bound to happen. But I couldn't do a thing to stop it. Knowing what was coming didn't do any good, did it? I couldn't avert the catastrophe.”
    “It wasn't your responsibility to avert it,” Max said.
    Cleo smiled wryly. “Trisha and Benjy are both part of the family. I should have been able to do something about the situation before it got out of hand.”
    “I thought I was the one who took things too seriously.”
    Her smile faded. “This is serious. Trisha and Benjy are both family. I care about them.”
    He couldn't think of anything to say to that. Cleo obviously had an odd definition of family. On the other hand, Max thought, he couldn't think of a better one. He decided not to comment.
    Cleo worked for a while in silence. Her fingers probed gently, seeking the depths of his taut muscles. “I'm glad you didn't think The Mirror was pornographic,” she said after a moment.
    “It's just the opposite.” Max closed his eyes.
    “You sound very certain of that.”
    “You know what they say about pornography.” Max smiled faintly. “You know it when you see it. The Mirror isn't it.”
    “What makes you so sure?”
    He searched for a way to put his inner knowledge into words. “ The Mirror is alive. It generates a variety of responses, not just a sexual reaction. It's an affirmation of life and the future. Pornography is static.”
    “Static?”
    He spread the fingers of one hand wide and then let them relax. “It's one-dimensional. No past, no future, no depth, no emotion, except for a short-term sexual response which wears off very fast.