Story A Day In May - Story 15

 This one may have been influenced by the fact that i just finished watching the last of the Good Witch series as it was by the postcard on postsecret.

Beautiful

by J. Smith Kirkland

Rachel worked the soup kitchen every Tuesday and Thursday night. She sometimes felt a little guilty because she looked forward to it not just because she enjoyed doing things for others, but because the homeless men there were the only ones that ever called her beautiful.

Last Tuesday she was running late and would not make it to the soup kitchen right on time as she usually does. She hated to be late. But that did not keep her from stopping to help a woman whose had tripped on the curb and dropped her groceries. A man stopped and helped also. The woman thanked them both, and Rachel got to the soup kitchen in time to serve the regulars.

“Hey, Beautiful. I thought you might not be here tonight,” said George, an unemployed actor. That's what he called himself. Truth was he had been unemployed for 20 years, and he was never an actor.

“Things just got a little crazy at work. I'm just happy I got here.”

“Me too,” Allen, the next in line, joined in, ”Wouldn't have been the same without your gorgeous smile around here.”

She knew it was a little self absorbed to feel better when they said things like that, but it made her feel better. Maybe it gave her a little more hope for mankind thinking people going through such hard times themselves would take time to make someone else feel better.

Wednesday was her day to walk through the park after work. She saw a little girl fall. There was no adult rushing to her, and she was crying. So Rachel went to her and told her she would be ok. She helped the little girl up, ad asked who she was there with. The little girl pointed at a woman on a bench with her back to them. Her mother. She was having a heated conversation on a cell phone. Rachel took the little girl's hand and walked over to the woman.

“What are you doing? unhand my daughter!”

She grabs the little girl's other hand and jerks her away from Rachel.

“She fell down, but she's okay.”

The woman glares at Rachel, and starts walking away with her daughter in tow and still talking on the cell.

“Some crazy looking woman was leading my daughter around by the hand. It's a good thing I saw her.”

Rachel, tries to put the incident behind her so she can enjoy the rest of her day.

That Thursday, Rachel recognizes a man sitting at one of the tables. He is the man that stopped to help the woman who fell. He chats some with the others, but is mostly concentrating on a notebook he is writing in. After everyone is served she gets a chance to go around and chat with everyone. The man is sitting next to George.

“Hey Beautiful, come my our new friend, Andrew.”

“Nice to see you again, Andrew. You stopped to help pick up the groceries the other day.”

“That was me,” he smiled modestly, “You helped, too.”

“She is always helping,” George injected.

George then went on to tell a story about what happened to him the day before, or maybe the year before, and eventually someone in the back called for Rachel to help clean up. So she didn't learn much about the man who helped, other than his name was Andrew.

This Tuesday as she was leaving the soup kitchen, she found Andrew waiting outside.

“Hello, Rachel.”

“Hi, Andrew. You missed dinner.”

“Oh, I wasn't here for the food. I wanted to give you this.”

He handed her a canvas wrapped in brown paper.

“For me?”

“I wanted you to have it. I have an exhibit opening next month, where I am going to be displaying a series of painting. I've been all over town making sketches for the past couple of weeks. And several painting I made are going to be displayed at the exhibit. But this one is for you.”

Rachel is not sure how to respond. She is not a distrusting person, but a gift as personal as a painting, from a stranger, that's seems odd. She starts to open it, but he stops her.

“Wait until you get home. I hope you like it. And if you do, I hope you will show up at the galley for the opening. There is an invitation tucked in the back of the canvas, if you want to come.”

All she manages to verbalize is, “Thank you.”

Andrew smiles and walks off, leaving Rachel to ponder the unusual event. She gets home and can not wait to rip the paper off the painting. Her breath leaves her. It is a woman and a little girl, walking and holding hands in the park. The colors are vivid. It an impressionistic style, but there is no doubt who the woman is. The dress is the same as the one she was wearing in the park that day. She loves it.

After changing her mind at least three times that day alone, Rachel finds herself at the art opening. She is roaming around the gallery with people dressed far differently from the ones she spent the evening with on Thursday. She loses her breath again when she sees a picture of two men sitting at a table. It's George and Allen. Allen is laughing, and she can almost hear the wild story George must be telling him. She studies the painting for a long time before moving on to the next. They are all wonderful. The colors emanate joy. She loves Andrew's works.

Then she see one that almost stops her heart. I large portrait of her. People are standing in front of it, admiring it. Saying wonderful things about a portrait of her. Rachel is overwhelmed, and telling herself not to cry. She moves closer to look at it. The man next to her says, “Isn't it beautiful?”

Andrew's voice from behind her says, “Yes, she is.”

The Prompt

from postsecret website

Story A Day Framework

just write and let it take me where it was going