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Chapter 152 — The Evil Fairytale
Fortunately Samantha quickly recovered. She quickly forgot the lying aunt with bad stories and turned back into herself.
However adults are not getting off that easily. Mary constantly had wanted to check on whether the children and Mason had looked at the nursery much more often when he was home.
Not wanting to disturb her family Mary started to put her emotions on the canvas. She's already not trying to make something complex and purposeful — she's just sketched anything that came into her mind.
So no one expected the storm on that day about a week after Sammy's kidnapping. Mary's trying to sort mail and Mason looks though some papers while talking on the phone. She heard him talks about the cross-examination and the judge's reputation... when Sammy's wild scream came from upstairs!
Mary jumped up in panic and ran upstairs but Samantha's already flew down and clung to her.
"There! There!" She sobbed.
"Where is it, honey? What's happened? Are you hurt?" Mary frantically feels the little body.
"No! There! Forest! It's so scary!"
Mason came up and turned to her daughter.
"Where did you see the forest? It's a fairy tale?"
"No, it's not!"
"I saw it too!" Chip run down the stairs. "It's dark and scary! And it's moving!"
Mason and Mary looked at each other.
"Do you show it me?" Mason asked Sammy.
Samantha gave a sob and then nodded.
Mason picked her up and carried to the second floor. He had no doubt that Sammy just messed up her fairy tale playing with real life. He promised himself to review all books Mrs. Rold read to his children. It is possible there was something too hard for child's delicate psyche...
However Sammy led not him to the playroom or the nursery — she showed him up to the studio. Mason involuntarily glanced over his shoulder. Mary followed him, holding Chip's hand. Mason shrugged and went upstairs.
As soon as they came in the studio, Sammy immediately covered her face with hands and then jabbed the finger somewhere.
"It's here!"
Mason turned left and froze.
The painting. Indeed, there's the forest. But even Mason got goosebumps when he looked at it.
"Sam, it's just the drawing. It's not real. Look!"
But Samantha stubbornly refused to look at the picture, and Mason stopped to insist.
"This is not a real forest." He said firmly, and led his daughter out of the studio. A minute later Chip jumped out too and took his father's hand.
Downstairs kids gave real hard time Mason, causing him to make clearer that there's not way for a painting able to turn into something real. Mason took all his eloquence to persuade them and he did in the end. Returning his children in safe hands of Mrs. Rold — he still trusted her despite the incident with Augusta — Mason came up the studio again.
Still walking upstairs he heard a strange noise from there. Mason stepped in the room and stunned by the sight.
He saw the blushed face and tear-stained eyes of Mary who fiercely cut and tore her canvases to pieces.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Mason grabbed her hand and hardly missed the next swing of her knife.
"I'm destroying Evil!" Mary tried to wriggle out and continue the destruction of her paintings but Mason held her hand tightly.
"Come on, it's your work!"
"No. It is Evil!"
He felt her violent breathing as her chest's bubbling up with sobs.
"Mary, don't. Sammy just has an imagination."
Mary shook her head and looked at her knife.
"Come here," Mason took her aside and forced to sit on the old sofa. Crouched nearly he took her hands in his.
"Mary, she's just a little girl..."
"I know. It's not the point."
"What is it then?"
"Mason..."
"Tell me."
"It does not work," she gasped and rubbed her palms together. "When I dreamt to have my own studio I wanted... Oh, I thought I was a great painter — just one flick of fingers and my memories come alive. Materialize. I wanted its turn in a sort of real thing."
Mason was silent, quietly looking at her upset face.
"... and then there's your portrait. I never forgive myself for..."
"Mary, don't be..."
"No! I've badly hurt the person who I love more than my life! I can not forget it even if I wanted to. And now it's painting. From the mouths of babes come words of wisdom. My creations just bring pain and sufferings. So they are no longer to be.
"This is just a piece of canvas and a little paint", Mason pulled her closer to him. "I did not aware that this story hurts you so much."
"Do you think that I can hurt you and immediately forget about it?"
"It was not too bad. And I do not want you to torture yourself for the rest of your life because of my complexes."
Mary shook her head and turned away.
"Tell me something," Mason asked.
"What?" She quickly glanced up him.
"I can see why you wanted to draw the house of your childhood and your parents. And why you did my portrait. But why did you draw this picture? It's really look fairy but resembles a sort of a nightmare."
"I tried..." Mary shrugged helplessly. "I wanted to draw the fairy forest. But instead of the good tale with fairies and elves I managed... this. I just could not draw the good magical world. I could not."
"Yes, I understand," Mason nodded thoughtfully. "How there can be a good forest if exist the evil witch who's kidnapping little girls? And parents barely have time to save their children. Your soul is too honest to make on canvas the thing what you really not believe.
"Maybe you're right," Mary said after a pause. "Perhaps it is the cause why I could not draw my home and parents. I can not just go back in time... I aware what happened later... too well aware. My soul resists... Hence, a fortiori it's all meaningless. I'm sorry that I made you set up this studio for me. I wouldn't make an artist."
"In my opinion it's on the contrary," Mason said. "You make a too good, too honest artist, and you're suffering because of this. Let's close up this room for a while. You need to relax and forget it."
Mason took Mary out of the studio, then went somewhere for the key and deliberately locked the room.
"That's all," he proclaimed and put the key in his pocket. "No one get in, including particular young spies."
Mary silently leaned her head against his shoulder. Mason was often unbearably arrogant but sometimes this trait may bring even a relief. Like now. Mason forgives her... forgives all sins of her... Mason, the love of her life...
They're walked downstairs and found Christy in the living room. The younger sister is beaming that Mary knew immediately what Christy's going to tell. And she did.
"Jimmy and I set the date for our wedding," Christy blurted, barely waited when they say hello. "We are getting married on November, 1 and I'll like that you and Mason attend at our wedding."
"I'm so happy for you!" Mary hugged her. "And your fiancé already knows the happy news?" She whispered to her sister's ear.
"Yeah." Christy smiled. "Sure. By the way I wanted to ask you about the particular wedding gift."
Mason mumbled irritably, and smiling Mary asked: "And what is it?"
"The painting."
"What?" Mary's heart frozen.
"Well, I aware about your studio. Mary, draw something for me, please. Mine and Jimmy's portrait, for example."
"I can not write from nature," Mary replied weakly.
"Well, then something else," Christy said like expected such a response. "I do not care. I want your painting. Will you do me a gift?" She looked older sister's eyes.
"I'll try," she replied and then added: "I can not promise to the wedding. It's not so fast working".
"Well, okay." Christy nodded. "Take your time. Just do it. I mean to draw."
They talked about trifles, and then Christy left.
Mary sat on the couch, wondering how she supposed to perform this promise now. How she's going to draw a gift, not another nightmare.
"Well, well." She heard Mason's voice and looked up him.
Mason stood at the table, staring at the pile of papers.
"What's the matter?" She came to him. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes." He somehow tentatively looked into her face. "I just got copies of legal papers for Wayne Bernard, father of Sophia."
"These? And what's in them?"
"It seems Mr. Wayne appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into nowhere."
"What you mean?" Mary was surprised.
"He's very mysterious person. According to Sophia, her family was origins from Pittsburgh, PA. However, my man could not find any trace of the marriage or the birth of Bernard Wayne. As Sophia's. Registered record is the one only — the death of Sophia's mother in the right date. But again, not her birth's."
"They must have come from somewhere."
"Sophia rejects that they did. In addition the death of Mr. Wayne was not found also."
"You're... you think that Sophia lied? But what for?"
"I have no idea. But the facts are stubborn things. I need to talk frankly with Sophia. This story did not like me from its beginning, and now I do not like it even more. And I want to know the truth. What else Sophia is hiding from our family?"
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