Through An Artist's Eyes

1

Rebecca wondered what the others in her artist's group would make of the raucous laughter that could be heard drawing closer to the vantage point they had chosen to capture the view. They were gathered, as best as space allowed, along the narrow footpath that wove between the glaring whiteness of the walls to houses that lined its route along the promontory, the blue domes of churches the only color to relieve what some would think the monotony of the scene. But it was so in keeping with the island's architecture and that was to be found on so many others in the Greek Archipelago.

The young men soon jostled past them, scarcely glanced their way nor took an interest in what they were seeking to capture in their sketchbooks; braver ones having carried their collapsible easels, and paints box, through the town's streets. She had been one of them, wishing to capture the scene below her on a small canvas while she had the opportunity to do so.

'Come on Jamie, what's keeping you?'

She caught sight of the young man who had let the others go on ahead of him. He was tall and lanky, well-made judging by the fit of his white cotton V-necked T-shirt and its soft grey-blue stripes. It showed off the tone of his arm muscles and chest. It went so well with sky-blue chino shorts that revealed strong legs and large feet covered by canvas deck shoes. He was not one to mix and match colors, that much was already clear to her.

'I'll catch you up, don't hassle me!' cane his laughing reply to his pals who were soon out of sight.

She couldn't help but like the look of him, how he paused to consider the work in hand but not to intrude. He then moved on and she wondered if he would stop and look at her picture's progress. It showed the broad sweeps of a color wash that captured the blue of the cloudless sky, a darker wash that was the sea and horizon, and then lighter hues that suggested the translucence of the water as it lapped against the foot of the rocky cliff not so far below her vantage point. The outlines of the houses, and a church, were to be clearly seen, and she had sketched in through the use of an artist's pencil.

Jamie stopped as she leaned back against the wall of a house, its shelter from the sun welcome. He paused only to look in the direction of where his friends had gone.

'Do you mind?' he then asked, standing close to her easel and studying the beginnings of her picture. 'You're way ahead of the others, in skill I mean.'

He had said only a few words to compliment her on the work that she had placed on the small easel, for the woman was only too easy on the eye. He had noticed her almost from the moment the group he was with had reached a part of the walkways offering views of the cliffs below and with cruise ships slowly drifting past. Santorini was one of many 'must-see' places in the Aegean. The cobbled pathways meandered through the town, past little kiosks selling holiday trinkets, cold drinks, sweets, and postcards, and where you got pressed closer and closer until you had to stop and let others pass you by.

'I'm glad you think so,' she smiled and decided to take off her straw hat for a moment. It was only too ungainly, but she favored it over a baseball cap, its wide rim keeping out the brightness of the sun that was directly overhead. 'Are you an artist too?'

'Graphic designer and advertising...I draw and paint in my spare time. I may get to do some of that while I'm here, and if those I'm with will let me, give me some space.' He looked in the direction his mates had gone. 'I seem to have been deserted, but Thira's not too big a place.'

'But there are many people about,' she said, looking at him more closely. He had been seen to shudder as if a bad memory, aroused by what he had just said came to mind. 'Have I reminded you of someone, or brought her to mind?'

'No, neither of those or not quite.' Jamie wondered where to go with this now and stepped away from her, just a pace. 'A relationship ended, I got dumped...she went off with a friend of mine. The guys I'm with, here and now, aren't like that, but...but then, I thought that of someone else I trusted.' He shrugged. 'You've got me talking, and we've only just met.'

She looked away and saw that her group was preparing to leave. 'I've got to join the others, move on...capture a different view.'

'It's a small island, so we may meet again,' he ventured, watching her gather up the artist's paraphernalia that she managed to carry, somehow.

'We may,' she smiled, yet perplexed by his familiar ways with her. She looked at him. 'I hope you don't tell everyone you meet of what you've just told me...er?'

'Jamie...Jamie Pettyfer.'

'It's an uncommon name,' she suggested, 'one I've not heard of before.'

'There are a few of us about,' he soon smiled on answering her, 'my family's origins go back to people returning from the United States in the late nineteenth century. They say that before then it was of French origin and meant iron foot.'

'Pied de fer!' she laughed on realizing the significance of the original meaning. His look back at her suggested that he was impressed by her instinctive use of the French words.

'Quite, now I'll let you go...uhm?' he said, smiling and on a tilt of the head in inquiry.

'Rebecca...'

'Well, thank you for talking and showing me your picture. You capture the colors so well, Rebecca.'

'The light's perfect for that, almost too good and with no tricks...'

'And we can't have that, any tricks in what we see or what we say when we meet someone.'

'Go and find your friends, Jamie,' she suggested, woodenly, on hearing his teasing ways in answering her. Was he flirting with her? 'Talking like this, and with you, is something I'll have to explain to myself and everyone else in the group!'

'Keep it to yourself then, because I will.' He knew that she was ready to leave him. 'I'm going to the art museum they've opened set up in the town square, so I may see you there. I have my sketchbook with me all the time, just as you do. We can contrast and compare styles...what one artist sees is different from another.'

Jamie saw Rebecca shake her head as if to dismiss the very idea. H watched her as she walked slowly away from him without a backward glance.

'You made me say what I had to say,' he murmured before he strode up the path and along the route he hoped his friends would have taken that led up into the town.

A bar and a few beers were the usual plans for this time of the day, and them. Casual hookups were their game, but he had settled and had been loyal, consumed by the sight and company of his ex-girlfriend. Older Rebecca might be, but she hadn't brushed him off; nor had she given him any encouragement. But in their art, there was a common thread, and he would have to pursue that line if he was lucky enough to meet the captivating woman again.

He sure wanted that to happen as she made no secret of what she brought to his sight, her voluptuousness that he had seen shaped so enticingly by her sky-blue sleeveless top, the neckline finishing at her breastbone, the fabric ruched to make it look like a bow. Her washed-out khaki shorts revealed shapely, not overly fleshy legs and only too practical ankle socks and fashionable suede trainers that he found sporty, stylish even. He was captivated by the sight of her shapeliness, the tumble of her auburn hair that had its reddish strands brightened by exposure to the sun, by the freckles on her softly tanned skin and how her bangled bracelets slid over slender wrists. The sweep of her hands to adjust the fit of her sunhat had revealed her long-fingered hands that were adorned by a ring on each middle finger, the gemstones large and colorful.

'The place is too small for me not to keep that hope alive.'

With his mind elsewhere he failed to see the others, five of them, amongst the drinkers outside a noisy bar.

'Jamie, you've got a beer to catch up on!' he heard one pal say and on a tap to his shoulder to make him stop, mid-stride. 'You should know better than to chat up...'

'Quite!'

He had snapped back an immediate response, his friend given no time to finish what he was going to say, the predictable line that would include 'older women'.

'I'll have my beer and then I'll move on. It's each to their own, after all, as we agreed when we planned on being here.'

2

'You're with us again,' Susan Marriot smiled, the leader of the group choosing to walk by her side when the narrow pathway allowed that. 'There's so much to see, and that catches the eye. You wonder what to sketch or to paint.'

Rebecca wondered if there was more to what she was saying.

'I'm just concentrating on capturing a view that will remind me of the island and the caldera...the white walls of the houses and the blue contrast. There's so much of it on doors and windows!' she enthused with a soft laugh. 'It's as if the Greek flag is painted on every house and church.'

'Yes, quite so,' Susan replied. It was clear she had not thought of that. 'Will you be joining us all for lunch?'

'I have done over the last two days,' Rebecca shrugged. 'So, today, I may have it in my small villa. I pay enough for it, so I had better spend some time there...'

'But you'll have supper with us won't you?' Susan pressed 'We've booked a table at a quirky and arty taverna...we can catch the sunset over the island offshore as we walk there. We may even get some inspiration for another picture.'

'I'll find it.' Rebecca pointed to the path that wove its meandering ways through other holiday places that had been cut into the hillside. Her villa's domed roof, and the blue-painted railing marking the edge of the small balcony, were the best means to identify it from all the others huddled close by. 'Here's my home from home...'

She met Susan's smile of farewell before she was lost in the crowd of holidaymakers.

A stay in the hotel, which the leader of the artist's group had suggested for them when the trip was still in its planning stages, was not what she had wished for. Her fellow artists were friendly enough and no one, who had traveled, was so argumentative or combative that it soured everyone's mood. No, she prized her own space, and company, when moments arose when she needed it most. It was an attitude of mind that had gradually come to possess her after a childless marriage had begun to falter and was then dissolved. Her love of art and painting had helped her through when irreconcilable differences had been cited. But the truth was that she had always wanted kids and David Staunton had not. Their 'love' had not been enough, after all, to calm the stormier waters that their relationship had gone through.

And now, as she pushed open the door that led into the cozy one-bedroomed villa, the cool interior greeted her. The view from the double doors that led out onto the sun terrace, with its small plunge pool, had persuaded her to make a booking for a full week. Its elevated position also gave a view that Susan had spoken of moments ago, but the vertiginous scale of the cliffs that the village was perched on drew her attention once more. Somehow, she had to find the skill to paint that scene, once she had finished the work that Jamie had seen her engrossed with.

What to do, what to do about the young man who had simply walked into her life and spoken out such a few words? Where would be the harm in meeting him at the art gallery he had mentioned? She already knew of it, the 'art' was more the work of a specialist in glassware that had been moulded, and fired, around brass or other metalware and mostly in the shape of fishes, singly and in shoals.

She would be in younger company, but that difference was not of any concern. Her feelings, about what she was now intent on doing, more so. She smoothed sunblock onto her arms and legs, to her breastbone and shoulders, until her skin had a soft luxuriant glow. A light spray of perfume would soon mask that of the sunblock; a dab of it behind her ears and on her throat was a final flourish.

'You're not going out on a date,' she muttered as a floppy hat was put on her head, its choice for practical reasons and not to impress or catch his eye. She had already done that, so it seemed, and now she was curious where meeting him again would take them and if she ever saw him again. If she did not, it would be a shame but she wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

♥

'Becky, over here!' she heard called out and hesitated. The name hadn't been used for her in some time. Doubts that she would catch sight of him, in the throng, just melted away. He scampered towards her, a broad grin creasing his face. 'Sorry about shortening your name, it seemed easier to do.'

'I forgive you.' She knew that it was futile to deny her engagement with him, her dismay at what she had set out to do replaced by a sense of intrigue and anticipation. She saw him wave a sketchbook, the small lightweight haversack that she had seen him carrying, earlier in the day, now dangling from one shoulder. 'I've scratched out a few sketches while I waited for you.'

She stood close, felt small and somewhat fleshy compared to his height and slender physique, as she looked at the charcoal image and then at the sight before them; a colonnaded frontage of arches that formed part of the gallery building that faced a cobbled and slabbed square. The glare off the many white building frontages ensured that you wore sunglasses, and she could not tell whether he looked at the sight before them or appraised her once more.

'More of this later. Shall we go in and look at the displays? It's not what you usually find in a gallery...that shark sculpture fixed to the wall being one of them.'

She let him down gently. 'I'd rather not. The group I'm with toured it the other day. I thought you meant the others nearby?'

'Then we'll go there...'

'No, or not yet. Let's have a drink somewhere, or take in the view from up here while we do that, shall we? Let's see where that takes us, Jamie. There's no rush and you've got me here.'

'Sure, and so I have,' he answered with a shrug of the shoulders. 'At least you're here.'

Their sudden awkwardness was difficult to endure but she spoke her mind, nevertheless. 'And I'm still wondering why, so help me with that, Jamie, will you?'

♥

They sat on a low wall, surprisingly close, and simply talked, it soon became apparent, the reasons that had brought them to the island. She remained hesitant but, with every minute that passed, Jamie coaxed her to explain her reasoning.

'I chose somewhere hot and unexplored, in my case, with guaranteed good light for me to paint what I wanted to see on a canvas and to be in the company of those I could trust. I suppose that goes for me being here with you now.' She said it on taking a sip of the local beer that he had bought, the bottle's contents shared almost equally between them in two small plastic beakers, condensation soon forming on their surface. She held one to her forehead for a moment before she put on her hat once more and met the look he cast her way. 'You have me wondering about this, you know, and how you keep looking at me.'

She saw that she swung her feet to and fro, just as he was doing as they talked, and she felt strangely at one with him.

'I went through a similar moment,' he began, 'and knew from just a look on that walkway, when I first saw you, that I wasn't about to let it go.'

'And you don't keep your feelings to yourself either, do you?' she stated on looking back at him, then away, her sunglasses again keeping out the glare of the sun and Jamie not knowing that she was studying him with every minute that passed. She was dismayed by all that was happening. She wished to retain some control over a sudden and aberrant longing for the young man sitting beside a woman who was dressed practically and not to catch the eye. And still, she had failed in that.

'No, not where they concern you, Becky...'

To hear him use that name had the effect of making her feel closer to him, their chatter over the pictures they had each sketched was a means to begin fashioning a bond between them.

'How can you say that when we've only just met?'

'Because we each know where the other has gotten to in their lives...alone and watching others being together, or in my friend's cases getting together and moving on again. I'm not made that way...and I've heard you tell me something that sounds much the same.' He looked sideways at her and smiled, taking in her appearance and shapeliness, the soft richness of her lightly tanned skin. 'I hoped to make a start in knowing you, so art and drawing...'

'Making me sip on beer which is something I normally don't do...'

'I'll bring you wine to drink, the next time,' he replied and taking the plastic beaker from her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin when he did that. He chose to say more. 'I took to wondering why you were in a group where others were older than you, and were couples and others not. I then went on...'

She interrupted him. 'You went on to make assumptions about me!'

'Which you soon corrected,' he retorted and nudged her shoulder. 'Let's not argue the point. We're together...'

A gust of wind tore her hat from Becky's head just as she was loosening the ribbon fastening and taking it off, at last, he was pleased to note. He wanted to see her wonderful hair, how the sun caught its colors. He retrieved her hat from the ground and stood before her for an instant, each of them lost in thought before he jumped, athletically, up onto the wall and settled beside her, bearing his weight for an instant on outstretched arms and his thigh brushing her leg.

She drew away instantly. 'Don't...'

'Sorry...'

'Go on talking, I mean,' she said with a pouted smile, her lips still shiny from the sunblock he had seen her apply, once more, after she had finished her drink.

'I wasn't making any assumptions about you. I was just wondering that, in my line of work, you come to understand some people's motivations for buying or doing something, and that it could be the same in relationships. You need to be persuaded to do something different...'

He gave a soft laugh when he had finished.

'Or it's all just wishful thinking, on your part, Jamie,' she laughed softly and took off her sunglasses so that he could see her eyes and know that she was engaged by him now. 'I hadn't given any thought to being alone here until, well...' she paused, 'until I was working on my picture, and I sensed someone looking at me. I began to wonder about what it could mean. And then you stopped and talked to me...'

'And then invite you to be here with me. It's no secret, Becky. You've got your art group and shared interests. I have my boozy and randy friends who live things out differently. I got stood up and was wrecked by it. Now, I just hope for a way back...'

She could not fault him for his plain speaking, but she wondered about his presumptuous ways and that her presence beside him, seated on the wall and looking out over the sea, could suggest that she was of a like mind. Events and emotions could so quickly overwhelm you, but had she reached that place in her life and Jamie to be thought of as the answer to that question? She knew nothing about him, save what he had told her so openly, and here she was sitting out in the warmth of the sun and with magnificent, rugged scenery before her, wondering how quickly she would be seduced.

'And you thought to find that way back with me?' she blurted out, her voice sultry, yet she hesitated for only a moment before finishing what had begun to possess her, the rawness of a need to be taken out of herself and that painting alone was no surrogate for. 'I'm in that place too, in case you're wondering.'