“Doing laundry,” I heard Hannah’s faint voice come back.I was almost bowled over as Harper fairly tackled me. That wasn’t unusual, either.“Come with me!” she said, excitedly. “I just have to show you what I did!”She pulled me upstairs to her “studio”, which is what she’d started calling the guest bedroom. There were two easels set up. One of them had a partially finished oil painting of a landscape on it. The other was covered by a drape. I was used to the clutter of art stuff in the room. All I did was sleep there, occasionally, and didn’t spend a lot of time in that room.“Stand over there,” she said, pointing to a spot about seven or eight feet from the draped easel. I did and, with a “Ta da!” she dragged the sheet off of the portrait she’d drawn of her mother.Harper might have all the time in the world to finish her figure studies, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t eager to get them done. That was obvious, because this one was almost finished.That it was Hannah was not in doubt. It. “What do you mean?”“Why is it that I haven’t seen you for so long?”“What are you talking about? I was at your birthday party.”“Yeah, a month ago.” She sounded grumpy.I was thinking, “Because you probably didn’t want some pervert hanging around,” but I didn’t say that.“I don’t know,” I said instead.“Are you mad at me?”I looked at her.“Of course not,” I said. “Why would I be mad at you?”“Because...” She stopped. She looked uncomfortable.“Because why?” I prompted.She looked out the window, and then at the back of the bus driver, who was three seats in front of us. Finally she turned her face towards me. She had always been intelligent, and well spoken. Suddenly, not so much.“Because I ... uh ... you know ... uh ... intruded on your ... um ... privacy.”I knew instantly what she was talking about. I was embarrassed instantly too, but not because of what she’d caught me doing. I was embarrassed because the way she said it made it obvious she wasn’t horrified about it, as I had assumed her.
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