It had taken Morel three days to finish the painting to a standard she could actually accept.
The depiction of Luke within the painting was just how she saw him. He stood beneath the Golden Fields archway, dressed in his simple, practical clothes. In his arms was Ember, the little kitten who still had not allowed her to pet them. And seated in a neat row to Luke's side were all the bunnies, with Button just to the edge of his boot.
She had also added some extra details to the piece's background. The sky was set up so the sun was directly behind Luke; the visage of Sol cast a halo around him, giving him an almost otherworldly presence.
Morel’s smile waned as she looked out the front window and saw storm clouds on the horizon. The dark storm clouds rolled toward the farm at a slow and steady rate. Their dark rolled forward endlessly, ready to lay siege upon the world.
She checked her dataslate and confirmed it was supposed to rain tonight. Instead of delaying bringing her rabbits in, Morel went and retrieved them. Doing so now was of the utmost importance.
The weather report only showed a low chance of thunder and lightning, but that little fifteen percent was enough for her to act upon. Even after years of therapy, thunder still unraveled her. Every boom, every shudder of the walls, every flash chipped away at what little composure she had. Morel needed to medicate herself every time Thor released his wrathful hammer upon the earth; If she did not, the entire night would be filled with her sobbing.
She just could not cope when faced with such a raw, uncontrollable force of nature.
Before she took to tending the animals, a memory from her youth flashed in her mind and rang in her ears. A memory of her mother holding her beneath the blankets while softly singing a lullaby to the shivering, stupid girl.
Her strong arms were the only thing that kept Morel grounded while she shuddered in the baleful storm. The idea of not having her mother for another storm made Morel’s heart weep.
It took her no time at all to get the rabbits corralled and moved into the house. She did not have a dedicated pen for them in there, but she just sequestered them in her room. Morel had attempted to lure Ember inside the house, offering her shelter from the encroaching storm, but the kitten declined.
Ember remained out on the porch waiting for Luke to return from town. That loyal cat was, unmoving, watching the road to the farm with unyielding vigilance. After an hour, Morel joined her to wait for his return. Morel once again reached out to the cat, and to her shock, Ember allowed herself to be touched.
The cat rolled onto her back, purring like a little engine as Morel’s massive hands caressed her. Morel cooed and spoke softly to the fire-furred kitten, enjoying her silken fur. It did not take long for Ember to migrate from the wooden slats to atop Morel’s plush thighs.
Ember curled into a ball, stretched her paws, and began kneading. Her tiny claws pricked Morel’s thigh, but she didn’t mind; victory tasted far sweeter than a little sting.
The long war of attrition with Ember was at last over; the cat had surrendered to the might of Morel’s gentle affection. Morel’s ears fluttered when Ember’s purring pushed through her chest. The experience of having gained the barn-cat’s trust was everything Morel thought it would be.
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Having the little ball of fluff to cuddle with was as warm as a summer breeze and as welcoming as a fresh cup of morning coffee.
They waited, watching the clouds roll in. Before Luke returned, they had retreated from the steps to the bench, protecting themselves from the now pattering raindrops. Not long after that, glimmers of headlights illuminated the boughs of the orchard, and the sounds of a struggling solar engine whined through the air.
The truck struggled through the rain, its solar cells barely generating enough power to keep it moving through the thick mud. Every few yards, the lights flickered and the engine sputtered, but Luke coaxed it in just before the electric motor finally gave out.
Morel sighed, watching the truck repeatedly fail Luke. There were plenty of more reliable versions of that vehicle, ones that would not suddenly stop once in shadow. Those new models had better transistors, batteries, and overall capabilities than her fleet of trucks.
But new vehicles were at the bottom of the farm's needs. It would be nice to have the new ones, but they could never afford such a luxury.
Thank God, I made it,” Luke said as he crossed the yard, shoulders hunched against the wind. “That thing died a dozen times on the way in.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Morel replied.
“Meh, it’s no big deal,” Luke started, brushing the water off his hat before pausing and looking at the kitten hanging out in Morel’s lap. “See, I told you she would warm up to you,” Luke continued, stepping up and reaching down to stroke below Ember's chin.
Once he was close, Morel ran her hand along Luke's flank, something he no longer ran from, and had grown to expect and in fact enjoy.
Having someone waiting for you at home, who wanted nothing more than to spend time with you, was a feeling Luke had never experienced to this degree of authenticity. Sure, Jackie had done so a few times at his apartment on Mars, but that felt like an obligation.
Jackie certainly wouldn’t have sat out in the cold waiting for him the way Morel had. That vile woman would have been in the bath or would have already gone to sleep.
Her hand slid up his side and cupped his cheek. Without hesitation, they shared a small, familiar kiss; it was gentle, unhurried. But this time, Morel lingered a heartbeat longer than usual.
“What’s on the mind?” Luke asked, having noticed her lingering.
“Oh, I just had something I wanted to show you,” Morel said, not mentioning her lingering worry about the encroaching storm.
“Really?” Luke said, taking Ember into his arms and standing. “Well, let’s get inside so that you can show me.”
Morel and Luke went into the house. Once inside, Ember wriggled free of Luke's grasp and rushed upstairs to wait by Morel's door, able to easily locate where her dear best friend Button was.
While the little kitten waited patiently by the door, Morel and Luke went to the kitchen, where she put water in the kettle and prepared snacks. Luke sat and poured, while Morel went into the other room and retrieved her gift.
By the time she had returned toating a covered picture frame, Luke had steeped the tea. Morel moved beside him and set the picture on the table, squeezing it between the cups.
“Well, here you are,” More said, gesturing at the cloth covering. “Go ahead and take a look.”
She shifted nervously as Luke unveiled her work. Her heart climbed into her throat, fear of his reaction pounding through her. That Luke sat silently, staring slack-jawed at the piece, did not help her feel any less worried.
Her mind scrambled through every imagined flaw: He did not have enough details. Luke hated the bunnies. He was not in a good light. The orchard was to exaggerate, and a million other nitpicks no one other than the most demonic critics would notice.
Panic seized her. She snatched up the cloth, ready to hide the painting before she could second-guess herself. Before she could do so, though, Luke had taken the entire painting and stood it up on end.
“Wow,” Luke gawked, taking his time to fully absorb the image. Every brush stroke was flawless, and not a speck of color was out of place. The painting was without compare, and it was made just for him.
“Do you like it?” Morel asked, holding the cover up against her bosom.
“Of course I like it,” Luke said softly. “It’s… beautiful. Did you have an idea where you want to hang it?”
“I was thinking about maybe in the foyer, near where the pictures of my family and I are.”
Luke considered it for several long moments. He understood the quiet implications of hanging his likeness beside her family, yet the warmth of it settled deeply in him.
He looked toward Morel and nodded. “Let’s do that. It’s just where it belongs.”
