FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #9

It was the thing he'd always loved about her. The way her eyes crinkled a little at the corner when she smiled. The way he could never really tell if she was about to kiss him or laugh at him. He called it "The Mischievous Factor."

The first time he'd seen that look was the day they had met, in a park on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. He was jogging; she was walking her Miniature Schnauzer in the opposite direction.

He was wearing old grey sweatpants, a ragged tee shirt, and a headband.  She was wearing a red sundress with white high-heeled sandals that accentuated her calves and slim ankles. He saw her from a distance as he jogged towards her along the sidewalk near the water's edge, the bright red of her dress and the bob of golden hair above it the first things he noticed. As he drew closer he continued to focus on her, and started to slow down his pace – he wanted to drink in what he saw to remember it for later. The thought crossed his mind that he might try to add her likeness into the seascape he was painting, and he found himself wishing he had a camera so that he could take a picture of her for reference.

As they approached each other, he slowed even further, and then he saw it for the first time – the glint in her eye and the little upturn of her lips in just the hint of a smile that he would grow to know so well in the years to come.

He jogged slowly past her a couple of yards, then came to a stop, resting his hands on his knees. It wasn’t because he was tired, he'd only been jogging a few minutes.  He stopped because he wanted to look at her again.

He turned his head and looked back at her, expecting to find her still walking away, but instead was surprised to find that she had also turned, and was looking right at him. The little dog sat patiently at her feet. He caught the glint in her eye again, and spoke.

"Hi, I'm Jim. I -- I like your dog." He winced internally. What a lame opening line.

She broadened her smile a little and said, "Hi, Jim. Careful, she bites.”  Then she turned and continued walking away, the small dog trotting along beside her.

For two weeks, Jim continued jogging the same path around the same time of day hoping to meet up with her again – the mysterious blonde with the glint in her eye and the little black dog.

"Careful, she bites." He wondered if that applied to the dog alone, or also to the dog's owner, whose name he didn't even know and, for all he knew, never would.

Meanwhile, Jim finished the painting he was working on, a seascape of Miami Beach.  As he did so, he added a small figure in the lower right corner, a blonde woman wearing a red sundress and white high-heeled sandals, with a little black dog beside her. It was to have been the final painting for his collection to be displayed at a friend's gallery for a month, and the opening was in a week's time. Then, impulsively, he added another painting to his collection.  This one was a portrait of a beautiful blonde with a glint in her eye and just the beginning of a smile.  He named it "The Mischievous Factor".

By the time the collection opened at the gallery, Jim had almost given up on ever seeing the unnamed mystery blonde again, although he certainly hadn’t forgotten her.  On the day of the opening he went for a haircut and had his beard trimmed, then he dressed in his best suit and arrived at the gallery at half past eight, thirty minutes early for the opening. By 9:15 the place was packed, and Jim was being congratulated by colleauges and art collectors alike.

Suddenly, he looked up and saw a woman across the room with her back to him, studying the portrait, the one he had painted on impulse and had completed only three days before. She was blonde, and all he could see was the back of her head, but somehow he knew it was her.  Jim began making his way over until he was standing beside her, his eyes fixed on the painting of the woman at his side.

She wasn't wearing a red sundress this time; instead, she was in a deep maroon chiffon gown that beautifully set off her complexion and her blue eyes.  Although her scent was unfamiliar to him, it made his head spin; or maybe it was just being close to her that had that effect on him.

She turned and looked at him.  He looked at her and said, "Hi, I'm Jim. James P. Buckner, to be exact."

She looked back at the painting, signed by James P. Buckner, then back at him, and gave him the look again. His heart flipped.  “Sarah,” she said.

A year later they were married, on the beach, of course.  Two years after that their first child was born, a beautiful girl who favored her mother.  They named her Lana. Two years later came child number two, a son, named Jacob. In all of Jim's paintings, which were growing increasingly valuable, he included some version of Sarah, his beautiful, mischievous wife, and occasionally, the children.  Sadly, the original portrait he had done of her, based on that first glimpse of only a few moments, he no longer had; it had sold during the show at his friend’s gallery, and the current whereabouts were lost to him.  He tried not to regret having sold it, but part of him always wished he had kept it, since it was his most inspired work.

With each passing day, and each passing year, Jim and Sarah’s love grew. Their relationship didn’t always run smoothly; there were some arguments, some disagreements over various things.  However, these were minor things like colleges for the children or which parties to attend.  On the major issues they always seemed to agree, and even when they disagreed, they managed to find common ground.

In the 30th year of their marriage their grandchildren began to arrive.  Jacob, the youngest, who had become a musician and married the singer in his band, eventually had three children.  Lana, who was a court reporter and had married a policeman, gave birth to twin daughters who brought immense joy to the grandparents. 

Jim’s paintings continued to sell well, although he didn’t paint as much as he once had. The original paintings now went directly into private collections, and only the limited edition reproductions were sold to the public, each signed and numbered by him.  Jim and Sarah had traveled the world, and Jim had painted award-winning landscapes and seascapes on every continent, but they still called Miami home, and that was where they returned after every excursion.

Fifty years, seven months, and thirteen days after they met, Jim stood beside Sarah in a hospital room overlooking the very same beach they had met on.  Sarah was tired, and her blonde hair had faded to silver, but she looked up at Jim with the same old mischievous look and said, "I'll be waiting for you over there. Please don't take too long."

And then, the look for which Jim had lived for more than half of his life faded, and was gone.  Jim wept.

A year and a half after Sarah passed, Jim lay in a bed on the same floor of the hospital, with his children and grandchildren gathered around.  He knew his time was short, and his breathing was becoming labored.  Lana and Jacob brought out a flat, square package, wrapped in brown paper, and showed it to him.  “What is it?” asked Jim.

“Let me help you open it,” said Lana, and she ripped the brown paper wrapping off.  Jacob held the object up for his father so he could see it clearly.  It was the portrait of Sarah, titled “The Mischievous Factor”.

“How?” was all Jim could manage to ask, his eyes filling with tears.  Jacob sat and told him how he and Lana had managed to track down the painting of their mother, the original one from so long ago, through an art broker.  Although it had taken much of their combined savings, they had purchased it and brought it to their father, knowing how much it would mean to him.

Jim studied the painting for a long time, reliving their love and their life together, filled with gratitude.  His grandchildren kissed him goodnight and left with other relatives, and then his two children sat by his bedside with him as he finished his life's course. 

The last thing he focused on, the last thing he saw, was the look in young Sarah’s eyes.  It was the thing he’d always loved about her. 

back to Contest #9