Excerpt Monday - Painted Soul

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Blurb:
Painted Soul is the first book of the Soul Series. A story that takes the reader on a wonderful ride in an artist’s life, through the streets of London, and into the shadows of the underground.

Elizabeth McAlister was only eighteen when she met the art student, Puzzola in a London nightclub and gave him her heart. Ten years later, they meet again when a summer of intense passion and dark secrets begins.
As Elizabeth falls deeper in love with Puzzola, she tries to rescue him from tortured memories he refuses to discuss. Eventually, his double life and erotic past are exposed in a local newspaper just as he is involved in a life-threatening accident.

Painted Soul
Chapter 3

Mrs. Somerby was enjoying lunch with her handsome son, Andrew, in a London cafe. He always admired his mother and how she tried to keep peace between him and his father. With every visit, she’d try to get him to return to Sussex. But he wouldn’t go home until his father accepted him for the man he really was.
“I think you pay your barber too much,” his mother touched his hair, “he never seems to cut anything off.”

“I like it this way,” Andrew frowned and pulled his head away. “Please stop, we’re in public.”

"Oh, I wish you would come home,” she begged.

"Mother, I can’t. The bank keeps me quite busy.”

“I will talk to your father again. I will make him understand how much I miss you.”

“Talking to father won’t change anything.”

“Andrew, I know you weren’t to blame for what happened to your grandparents. It was an accident.”

“Father doesn’t see things as clearly as you do, mother. I can’t believe he’s carried this grudge all these years. They loved me in a way Father never could, and I loved them back. I needed him when they died, but he turned his back on me and placed the blame on my shoulders,” Andrew lamented. “Mother, I was too young to handle such rejection. When Father said I couldn’t paint and took away the funds they left me for art school, it was the final straw. Painting was my deepest connection to my grandparents.”

He sighed, “There is more to our problem than the day of the accident. He just uses that as an excuse. My whole life, Father never praised me for anything I did. I could never manage to be the perfect son for him. I’m a failure. What happened in Italy was only more proof for him, and he wasn’t afraid to let me know that. Now my heart is stone. I go through the motions daily, the dutiful son running his father’s bank. He doesn’t even care about the work I do here. He just keeps me around because he wouldn’t be able to explain to his friends why he sent me away. He doesn’t give a damn about me, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“Oh, my dear, you are not a failure,” his mother bowed her head. “You know your father is aware of all the fine work you’ve done at the bank.”

“But when I stayed in Italy and didn’t give up school, I lived a life style that could disgrace our family, if anyone ever found out. He won’t let go of that.”

“That’s in the past, leave it alone. You’re living a good life now. You’re a good son.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. I was just hoping, perhaps you’d come home for a visit. Maybe if you would just talk to each other…”

“The last time Father spoke to me outside of the bank was when he brought me back from Italy. He told me to pull myself together, and forget about what happened. If I do as I’m told, everything would be all right,” he shook his head. “Mother, I was sick when I came back, you knew that! Then I was thrust into the management position at the bank, clueless. It’s amazing I didn’t ruin everything right then."

"The funny thing about this is, while I was gone, he told everyone I was studying business abroad. Oh, I learned business all right, just not the kind you use in a bank! I went from one prison to another.” He grimaced and took a drink, “no matter, time has gone by, but the wounds won’t heal.”

She fumbled nervously with her napkin obviously trying to think of something to say to change his dark mood, “Adeline McAlister’s daughter has moved into Hampton House. She is such a beautiful and charming girl, and I truly enjoy visiting with her.”

“I see what you are up to dear Mother.” Andrew shook his finger at his mother, “Matchmaking won’t work with me.”

"Besides being beautiful, she is a very talented artist, too!” His mother’s face lit up with the turn of the conversation. “She reminds me of her mother, so passionate with everything she does. Why, you should see the beautiful gardens at Hampton House. She steps right in and takes charge, and all the while her staff adores her. Why, you could use a good, stable woman in your life. The way her two brothers cherish her, I don’t think she...Andrew, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Andrew?”

“Elizabeth? Michael and Erick’s sister?” he croaked.

“Yes, dear, you know them so well, I’m surprised you don’t know their sister,” his mother shot him a puzzled look. “Anyhow, I think you should at least be friendly and call upon her. Maybe introduce her to some of your friends. It’s high time you start thinking about love.”

“Love? You are such a romantic, Mother. What happened in Italy took away my ability to love.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“You think so!” Andrew threw his head back and laughed.

She went on talking about some garden party she was thinking of throwing, but Andrew wasn’t listening. Elizabeth McAlister was the one who haunted his dreams and inspired his art. She was here in England. Why hadn’t Erick mentioned anything? He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering her touch. He still burned for her. His memory served him too well. They were young then, what was she like now as a woman? Could she teach him to love?

Andrew managed to sit through the rest of his meal, than bade his mother good-bye. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he walked along the streets of Mayfair. He unlocked the door to the closed gallery, went up the stairs to his studio and checked for messages on his answering machine.

“Hi! This is Reva ringing. Just want to let you know there is a hot, new artist coming from the States. Her name is Elizabeth McAlister. You should check her out. Bye.”

He picked up the phone and quickly dialed Erick’s number. He was full of questions, but a recorded answer was all he received. He had the phone number to Hampton House, but he dared not call it. He slammed the phone down and nervously paced the floor.

The ghost from his dreams was here. He could almost feel the way her body was pressed against his as they shared one last kiss. Andrew remembered the way her hair smelled as he whispered the promise, “Yes, we will meet again.” He remembered how the look on her face expressed what he was feeling inside. He knew the time had come. Her overprotective brothers were allowing fate to step in and let them meet again.

How far were they willing to let things go before friendships would be jeopardized? Under what circumstances would they meet? Would she see him as the artist, the man of his heart? Or would she meet Andrew, the dutiful son, and the stuffy banker? Should he share his dark secret with her? Would his two worlds meet and become one, or would they crash and burn, destroying everyone involved?

“I need to stop thinking!”

He ripped off his tie and his dress shirt, sending buttons flying. To hell with afternoon meetings, his presence wasn’t necessary today. With his pulse racing, he grabbed a paintbrush and pallet. He would put his emotions on the canvas, and then sort them out later. He hoped.



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