The Glimpsing (37 page)

“I… I don’t know what to say.
 
I feel sick.”
 
Portia put a hand over her stomach and gazed at Janice desperately.
 
“What do you think has happened to her, Janice?”

“I don’t know.
 
I’m sorry.
 
I know how close you two are.”

“Please, not again,”
 
Portia
sobbed.
 
“First Jack and now… I don’t understand any of this.”

Janice eyed Portia carefully, searching for signs of falsity.
 
She saw none.
 
“Well, she’s only been missing a few days.
 
She’s bound to turn up somewhere.
 
Maybe she just needed to get away for a while.”

“No,” Portia said staring off.
 
“She would have told me.”

Janice found it odd that not more than five minutes ago, the very thought of seeing Portia again frightened her to no end.
 
Now the woman seemed about as threatening as a lost child.
 
“Portia, I know this is a difficult time, but if I can, I’d like to ask you some very important questions.”

“Okay.
 
Sure,” Portia said, fingering away a tear.

“Last week, Gabrielle told me she was coming here to tell you something.”

Portia looked up, surprised.
 
“She told you that?”

“Yes.
 
Is that a concern?”

“No, not at all.
 
I just wasn’t aware that the two of you were friends.”

Janice grinned pleasantly.
 
“We met rather coincidentally during the investigation.
 
We chatted for a while, exchanged numbers.
 
I called her later on to discuss some matters about Jack’s disappearance.
 
We hit it off, as they say.”

“I see.”

“She’d been calling me almost daily up until last Friday.”

“Why is that?”

“I’d been talking to her about some spiritual matters.”

“Spiritual matters?”

“Yes.
 
She opened up to me like a flower.
 
I wasn’t sure why at first, but it seems Gabrielle had been dealing with a great deal of guilt.
 
She really needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s odd.”

“What?”

“That she didn’t come and talk to me about it.”

Janice looked up at her.
 
“That’s because the guilt she’d been feeling came as a result of something she’d done to you.”

“Something she did… to me?”

“Yes.
 
She asked me if I thought it wise to come here and confess it to you.
 
I told her yes, absolutely.”
 
Janice leaned forward.
 
“She never spoke to you about it on Saturday?”

“No.
 
She told me she was going to Brazil.
 
That was all.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, of course.”

Janice blinked off, seemingly puzzled.

“Janice?” Portia asked solemnly. “What was it?
 
What was she going to tell me?”

Janice kept gazing off for a moment, then blinked back to Portia.
 
“I can’t say I feel very comfortable letting you know that, Portia.
 
She chose not to tell you for a reason, and I have to respect that.
 
But I will say this: what she did to you bothered her very deeply.
 
She was at a loss to explain why or even how it happened.
 
But she was so desperate to get here and tell you.”

“Why, if it was so awful?”

“Well, because we did a lot of praying together.
 
A lot of praying.
 
It got to the point that she felt she’d cleared her conscience with God.
 
The feeling was so exhilarating that she became anxious to come here and do the same with you.”

Portia merely stared for a moment.
 
“What she did was that bad?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, I can’t imagine what that would be.”

“Let’s just say that Gabrielle put herself in a very bad position. I’m hoping the real reason she’s missing is that she just needs time to think, to sort it all out.”

“Let’s hope so.”
 
Portia then gazed at Janice thoughtfully.
 
“You said the two of you had been talking?”

“Yes.”

“About spiritual matters?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of spiritual matters?”

“General things.
 
God.
 
What it means to know Him.”

“God?
 
That’s strange.
 
Gabrielle was never a very religious person.”

“No, she said as much.
 
But while she was in Rio, she happened upon the Christ the Redeemer statue.
 
Are you familiar with it?”

“I am.”

“She said that for just a moment, seeing it seemed to grant her something she hadn’t felt for a long time.”

“What was that?”

Janice smiled. “Peace.”

Portia looked away.

“She’d shied away from the statue at the time, feeling she wasn’t worthy.
 
But I told her we are all unworthy in God’s eyes—”

Portia jerked her head back so sharply that Janice stopped speaking.
 
“What did you do, Janice?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said what did you do?” Portia repeated, seemingly agitated.

“I didn’t do anything, Portia.
 
But I do believe God did something.”

Portia looked off again, her eyes darting around as if she were trying to solve an impossible riddle.

“Is something wrong?” Janice asked.

Portia continued looking away for a moment.
 
She then seemed to brighten.
 
“Well Janice, that’s a very beautiful thing you’ve done.
 
I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Gratitude?
 
For what?”

“Because if something terrible has happened to Gabrielle, I guess we can take some comfort in the fact that she’s now in a much better place.”

Janice grinned.
 
“Yes.
 
Yes, I guess we can.”
 
She paused.
 
“But let’s pray that’s not the case.”

Portia said nothing.

“So, have you fixed it yet?” Janice asked.

“What’s that?”

“Jack’s painting.
 
You told me you were going to have the frame replaced.”

“Oh… yes.
 
Yes, I did.”

“It’s here then?”

“Yes.
 
Why?”

“I was hoping I might see it again.”

“Why?” Portia repeated.

Janice forced a smile.
 
“Well, it is an extraordinary work.”

Portia leaned her head slightly.
 
“I never knew you had an interest in art, Janice.”

“No, I can’t say that I ever have either—until now, until I saw your piece.
 
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.
 
Would you mind getting it for me?”

Portia’s gaze had turned just a bit suspicious.
 
“I’m sorry but I’ve already stored it away.”

“Stored it away?
 
But that painting belongs to Jack.”

“Yes, that’s true.”
 
She paused.
 
“And when Jack returns, I’ll be sure to take it back to him.”

Janice pressed, “Well if you don’t mind digging it out for me, I really would love to see it.”

“Actually I do mind, Janice.”

“Oh.
 
And why would that be?”

“Because I don’t get the sense you’re being honest with me.”

Janice reared.
 
“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Come now, Janice.
 
You don’t want to see the painting because you’re enamored with its beauty.
 
You want to see it for another reason.”

Janice showcased a cheesy smile.
 
“And what would that possibly be, my dear?”

“That’s exactly what I’d like to know.”

Janice’s smile sagged.

A silence fell between them.
 
Portia waited it out patiently, knowing that sooner or later Janice would give in—which she did in very short order.

With a long and heavy sigh, Janice said, “I’m sorry, Portia.
 
I hope you can forgive me, but… well… I’m just trying to figure out what happened to Jack.”

“And how would seeing my painting help you?”

“I’m not sure.
 
I—”

“Yes you are,” Portia calmly interrupted.
 
“How will seeing it help you?”

Janice stared at her lap,
then
looked back up.
 
“Portia, I don’t mean to upset you, but I know I originally saw two men in that painting.
 
And on the day you picked it up, a third had appeared.
 
”

Portia was shaking her head.
 
“Janice, I’ve already told you, there were always three men in my painting.
 
It’s been that way for the last twelve years.”

“That’s not true, Portia,” Janice said somewhat defiantly.

“What do you mean it’s not true?
 
I think I should know what I painted.”

“It’s not true because one of the three men in your painting is Jack Parke.
 
And twelve years ago, you hadn’t even heard of him.”

Portia went stiff, seeming to bristle.
 
She then answered with an obviously tempered response.
 
“Janice, Jack is not one of the men in my painting.”

“No?
 
Then let me see it.”

Portia paused, stared,
then
simply replied: “No.”

Janice pressed her lips together.
 
Her nerves were rising again.
 
She contemplated whether she should simply apologize and go home… or continue on and see what’s inside Pandora’s Box.
 
“Portia?”

“What?”

“Is one of the men in your painting Collin Freely?”
 
See what’s inside Pandora’s Box.

“Excuse me?” Portia said sharply.

“Collin Freely.
 
He’s in the painting, isn’t he?”

Portia’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know that?”

“You gave him the painting at one time, didn’t you?”

“What is this?
 
What have you been doing, Janice?”

“He disappeared, didn’t he?
 
Twelve years ago, he disappeared… just like Jack.”

Portia looked at her in bitter disbelief.
 
“You actually think I had something to do with Jack’s disappearance?”

“Yes.
 
I do,” Janice said plainly.

“Go home, Janice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Go—home.”
 
The comment sounded strangely threatening.

“I’m
sorry,
Portia, but I can’t do that.
 
I have to know what happened to Jack.
 
And I need you to tell me.”

Portia paused,
then
slowly stood to her feet.
 
With a chillingly methodical gait, she walked to the loveseat and stood over Janice.
 
“I know you loved Jack like a son.
 
But you and I have always had a special bond as well.
 
I don’t want to see that destroyed over a silly painting.
 
Now I’m asking you, please, go home Janice.
 
Think about what you’ve accused me of—pray about it if you have to.
 
And when you see more clearly, I’ll be here, ready and willing to forgive you.
 
But right now… you need to go home.”