Page 67 of The Formation of Us

By dusk, every nerve in Faith’s body was tense. Iris and Patrick had only slipped away for a minute, but it was long enough for Duke to notice their absence and raise an eyebrow at Patrick when the group rejoined and walked to the lake. The crowd gasped and sighed at the colorful display in the dark sky but all Faith could see was her future shattering like the fireworks and burning out one hope at a time.

How would she and her aunts build a respectable life here if they all behaved as if they still lived in a brothel?

Chapter 21

Faith opened the doors and windows to air the smell of paint out of the house. Now that the walls were plastered, Tansy was painting like she was possessed. She was in Faith’s bedchamber talking to Cora when Faith entered the room.

“Look at that bland wall for the last time Tansy waved her hand in a grand arc. “I’m going to paint rolling hills of green grass, with buttercups and purple clover and lavender, and a little gray pony grazing by a crystal clear stream.”

Cora’s eyes widened. “We’re going to have a pony in our room?”

Tansy tittered. “Not a real one, dahlin’, but if it’s all right with your mother, I’ll paint a picture of one on your wall.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave it blue?” Faith asked.

Tansy’s expression fell. “I haven’t sketched or painted in fifteen years, but this big empty wall has inspired me to try. I thought a pony would make Cora happy. But if you’d rather leave it blue—”

“No. Go ahead. Cora will love it,” Faith said, remembering the half-finished drawing Tansy had left on their kitchen table years ago. Tansy had later tossed the beautiful sketch into the cookstove and declared her talent dead. Her talent wasn’t dead. Tansy was. Inside. But it warmed Faith’s heart to see that she was corning back to life and finding her desire to paint again.

While Cora was occupied watching Tansy, Faith slipped out of the bedchamber and found Iris painting the room she shared with Dahlia.

“Blue does not suit me,” Iris said, scowling at the wall. “I’d prefer something more dramatic, like red.”

“I’m not surprised. I think you’d choose the boldest, most outlandish of anything to get attention,” Faith said, unable to hide her irritation.

Iris gaped, her paintbrush suspended in mid-air.

“Don’t look at me like I have three heads. You know why I’m upset with you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t, but I think you’re going to tell me.”

Exasperated, Faith pushed the newly hung door shut to keep their conversation private. “Your behavior with Patrick last night was abominable.”

Iris sighed and lowered her paintbrush to her side. “The second that man smiles at me, I forget everything but him.”

“Then don’t see him in public.”

“Was I that bad?”

“You went into an alley with him, Aunt Iris! I can’t believe I was the only one in the crowd who noticed.”

“I won’t see him anymore.” She sighed, her contrition melting Faith’s anger. “I was going to stop anyhow.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I’m in trouble.” She tossed her brush into the pail of paint. “I’ll tell him not to call anymore.”

“That’s not necessary I’m just asking you to show some restraint in public and act like a respectable lady.”

“I’ll never be respectable, Faith. Two months ago I was a prostitute. How am I supposed to go from being a whore to a lady?”

“Bytrying.” Iris was making excuses because she was afraid. She was a fish out of water in this pretty little village. Patrick had hooked her, and she was fighting the tug of her heart. And for the first time, Faith understood how difficult this move was for her aunts. For her, it was a new beginning filled with hope; for them, it had to be a constant trial to shed their old ways and make themselves over into women they could barely recognize. But Iris’s struggle was greater, because her true personality bubbled and surged like a geyser, throwing forth intermittent jets of the irreverent, outrageous and loving woman she was inside.

“Iris, you’re not a prostitute anymore,” Faith said softly, feeling a new sympathy and understanding for all her aunts. Her previous annoyance fell by the wayside.

“Then who am I?”

“Anyone you want to be.”