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are the colors?”
    Natalie described the hues as Fleur’s fingers traveled it once again. “Is it a waterfall with a coil here at the top?”
    “Yes. The coil is just whimsy.”
    “I like that.”
    “Want to see another?” Natalie brought her to one piece after another.
    Laughter welled up as she felt the clever renderings, nothing just the way it would be in life. “They’re delightful.”
    “You agree your work fits?”
    “I do.”
    “So let me explain the terms.” Natalie read her simple contract. “I’d have you sign—”
    “I can sign. Just place the pen on the line.” By the scratch of the tip, it was a liquid ink pen.
    “How did you keep it so straight?”
    “The tilt of the paper.”
    “You’re amazing.”
    “The chief of police wants to make me a detective.”
    “You should take him up on it.”
    Fleur laughed. “I’d rather paint.”

    Natalie watched Fleur Destry leave, once again aware of God’s hand, in that a sightless and a hypersighted artist formed a perfect blend before ever encountering each other’s work. It was there always, if she looked, the presence that said, See, I told you. All things working together for good .
    Cody’s disability broke her heart, but if a blind woman could paint, who was to say he couldn’t do anything he put his little mind to? She closed her eyes, seeing Fleur as though she stood before her, the long nearly black hair, her soulful, sightless eyes, thin, waiflike features. Another angel in this place of miracles.
    She went into her studio. With thumbs and palms and fingers, she transferred Fleur’s face to the clay, a less painful process than the last one. Part of her wished she hadn’t consigned Trevor’s face to the sludge, because the climbing three days ago was the last she’d seen of him. But she’d have been tempted to revisit that stunned moment of connection, and what good would that do?
    She gently draped Fleur’s face with a damp cloth and slid the board that held the bust into one of the deep shelves lining the walls. It wouldn’t go into the kiln, but she wasn’t ready to part with it. She hadn’t parted with Trevor’s heroic rescue either. Far too large for a shelf, it stood, likewise draped, in one corner. She left him standing there and went out.

    Jonah came up from behind and circled his wife in his arms. “What’s that?” He looked over her shoulder.
    “An invitation to the Nature Waits art gallery opening.”
    “And we’re invited why?”
    “I’m guessing all the city notables received one—Chief.”
    “What do I know about art?”
    “You don’t have to know anything. But here’s something neat. Fleur’s paintings will be displayed.”
    “Fleur’s?”
    “Don’t tell me you didn’t know she paints.”
    “I didn’t know she paints.” He nuzzled her collarbone. “How does she paint?”
    “How does she do anything she does?” She turned and circled his neck with her arms and kissed him.
    “I love coming home.”
    “I love you coming home.”
    “But I have to go out. I’m addressing the parents at back-to-school night. Want to come?”
    “If I never set foot in that school again, it will be too soon.”
    “You shouldn’t have been such a rebel.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he kissed it. “Kidding.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “You were the star they missed.”
    She shrugged a single shoulder. “Good thing I don’t care.”
    “Uh-huh. They could use you over there. A hard-nosed counselor—”
    She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t even breathe it. Besides, I’m still getting certified, I have Sarge to look after, a pair of half-breed coyotes, and a baby on the way.”
    “How are you feeling?”
    “Better. As long as I don’t eat, smell, or think about food.”
    “You need to eat.”
    “Closing my eyes and plugging my nose, I managed some cereal. Now I don’t want to talk about it.”
    He rubbed her back. “How long does this last?”
    “Do you think my