Read Online September Canvas by Gun Brooke - Free Book Online Page B

hair framing her face, the woman glanced over her shoulder at the dark outline of another woman who sat with a paddle resting just above the waterline.
    Deanna stared at the drawing, half finished and sketched in such a frenzied style. Faythe seemed to have invaded every part of her existence, and Deanna could think of only one place where she would find no trace of Faythe. She glanced at her watch. It was time to go see Miranda anyway. She had never needed the comfort of being around her beloved little sister this much. Miranda, the gentlest soul in Deanna’s life, never questioned her. Perhaps that was why Faythe’s sweetness was so compelling?
    Not about to speculate a second longer, Deanna grabbed her bag and car keys and was out the door in record time.
    * * *
    Opening Google on her laptop, Faythe typed in “Deanna Moore Grantville Vermont.” She had to find out what the hell was going on.
    The computer mulled over the entry and found more than ten thousand hits. The first ones were about Deanna’s work, her illustrations and paintings. Deanna had her own section at one of the publishers where Faythe found a small bio, with thumbnails of her Bunny Buttercup illustrations. A guest book was attached, and Faythe clicked on the link, curious what readers thought of Deanna’s work.
    The comments were appreciative and endearing, competing with each other to express how much they loved and adored the illustrations for Bunny Buttercup. Faythe felt proud of Deanna when she read how parents seemed to enjoy the stories and the illustrations as much as their children did.
    Returning to Google, Faythe found another link, this time to a discussion forum for books and their authors. Eventually she was staring at the long row of messages in a thread called “Deanna Moore, illustrious illustrator.” Faythe had stumbled upon vile remarks on the Internet before, but never been personally involved. She read several of the messages but couldn’t manage any more.
    I know what U did. I know the girl U hurt. I don’t think U should work with kids ever.
    You are an immoral bitch who should be locked up!
    You f*cking wh*re!
    Why don’t you move away from Grantville? You’re not wanted here!
    The occasional messages from appreciative readers were lost in the flurry of flames against Deanna. Stunned, with a thousand questions forming in her head, Faythe did the only thing possible. She tracked down the webmaster and requested that he purge the derogatory comments.
    Faythe continued to other sites, and even though she didn’t find such foul language, she discovered similar comments with a clear message. Other people than Kitty-with-heart, probably Grantville residents, clearly felt the same way she did. Frowning, Faythe decided not to log on to the local newspaper’s site. It would be wrong to read what she knew would be written there. She had to ask Deanna herself.
    She owed her that if she wanted to be her friend.
    Friendship was important, but the concept left her antsy and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger, over and over, as she thought about the situation. She had no idea if Deanna found women sexually attractive, but her response to the handshake and the hug earlier spoke volumes—mostly about strong, if repressed, emotions. Faythe had held Deanna’s hand long enough to feel her racing pulse. She had no clue how she had dared to simply hug her, but as brief as the contact was, Deanna had trembled against her. It had taken all her willpower to let go and merely smile.
    Faythe closed her eyes and thought of Deanna’s tormented features when she tried to push Faythe away… She snapped her eyes open again.
    That was it. Deanna was trying to push Faythe away, before the reverse happened. Whatever people were up in arms about, Deanna was certain Faythe would side with them. Stubborn and with a journalist’s desire to find the objective truth, Faythe straightened her back and began to type. She wouldn’t go behind