Chapter Two

"My name is Amelia Conway." The woman put her hand out to shake Silas'. He pulled back further, he was so used to a touch causing pain that he didn't realize she was simply being polite. Amelia was unaware of Silas' past and was taken aback what she construed as rudeness. After a moment Silas tentatively took her hand and shook it.

Is this what it felt like to touch another?

"I- I'm Silas." He stuttered, quickly letting go of her hand, fearing her disgust at his touch. There was none, in fact she shifted her sketchbook and gestured towards one of the trees.

"So I don't take up too much of your time, may we begin?" Silas nodded timidly and walked to where she had indicated.

"What would you like me to do?" She motioned towards the ground under the tree.

"If you would sit there please, I'll place you when you're settled." Silas sat against the tree, his nervousness overtook him and he pulled his knees up against his chest. His clear blue eyes looked somewhere over Amelia's shoulder. She had been flipping through her sketchbook looking for a clear page and preparing to draw when she looked back to Silas. She stopped for a moment and tilted her head. Silas met her gaze and immediately assumed he had done wrong.

"I'm, I'm sorry did I sit wro—" She interrupted him,

"No! No, in fact… The way you're sitting is perfect, if it's comfortable enough for you I'd like it if you stayed that way." Silas met her gaze; he had never been told he was right. Amelia lowered herself into the grass before him,

"Now, if you could look over my shoulder, like you were doing before." Silas nodded and did as he was told. He always did what he was told. From the corner of his eye he could see his new acquaintance, leaned over her sketchbook, face set in automatic concentration. He wondered why anyone with the skills he had seen would be interested in sketching something as ugly as him, unless that was her intent.

As Amelia made the basic outline of the man seated in front of her, quickly drawing the first contours of his face and limbs. She made a mental note to pay special attention to his hands. He had perfect hands, long and thin, white as though fashioned out of ice. He was beautiful. Something told her he wouldn't agree. He had an absolutely haunted look behind those incredibly blue eyes. As she drew the area they would be in, she thought to herself that if she were to paint him, she wasn't sure she would be able to mix a color close enough. What a work of art he was, hiding here in this tiny little church in an even smaller village. Cowering behind the robes of a priest and collecting the charity of crotchety and ancient God-fearers.

"So, what brought you here?" Silas' head snapped back as he was surprised by her question.

"I'm sorry?" Amelia stopped sketching for a moment and looked up from her work.

"You have the accent but not the facial structure of a Spaniard, I was wondering where you were from." Silas' hand slid up to his face for a moment. A single look and she knew he didn't belong here either. He quickly put his hand back in place and thought for a moment.

"I was born in Marseilles, but circumstances—changed. Father Aringarosa brought me here when I was younger and I have done my best to help him keep his church in order." Amelia nodded.

"I see." They were silent, the faint scratching of her charcoal against paper until Silas gained enough courage to ask,

"And what of you? Where are from?" Amelia blew a wisp of her red hair out of her face and continued to sketch as she answered.

"I was born in Ireland, raised in London and now I live in France. I'm studying abroad here to become an artist." She lifted a charcoal stained hand to solidify her point. She gave a light laugh,

"I guess you could say I'm practicing to become a vagabond." Silas' lips curved up, something they rarely did. He felt a strange bubbling in his chest, like he should open his mouth and let this feeling out. He didn't know that it was laughter, that it was all right find humor in this woman's words. His face must have contorted into one of mirth and confusion because Amelia looked up again and gave him a perplexed look.

"I didn't offend you did I?" Silas shook his head wildly.

"Oh no… I'm—I'm just not used to talking to someone, other than my mentor, and God of course." Amelia smiled sadly.

"That's unfortunate." Silas shook his head again,

"No, it is, humbling, that I do not allow ego overtake my soul. The solitude allows me contemplate God and what he requires of us all." Amelia was quiet for a moment as she darkened a shadow in around his eyes. Silas took her silence as that of someone who had no religion.

"Do you believe in God?" Amelia's pencil stopped. She didn't look up as she answered,

"I'll answer that question when we know one another better." Before Silas could reply Father Aringarosa called his name. He stood quickly, brushing the dirt from his clothing. Amelia looked over her shoulder as the black robed man came around the corner of the church. From the look on Silas' face, this was the man he had referred to as his mentor. Considering his face had lit up with respect and some fear when he had appeared. Amelia also took this as her cue that Silas would be leaving. That sculpture of a man would once again be hidden. She stood, her sketching in hand, raising herself up in time to meet the man that deserved so much of Silas' devotion. Silas bowed his head,

"Father, this is Amelia Conway. She was at the service today, she wishes to sketch me." Aringarosa looked at the young woman Silas stood beside. He wasn't sure what to make of her. The red hair, the freckles everything about her told him she had a fiery temperament. And, although he was grateful that Silas had found someone, even in a short while, to share his time with rather than roam the paths of his life alone, he wasn't sure if that fire would cause Silas to pull back into his own silent world more, or free him from his own personal demons. He noticed as he greeted the young woman that Silas' eyes flicked back to the young woman, and for once he wasn't looking to him for approval.

"It is wonderful to see Silas is helping a fellow soul." Amelia smiled and met his gaze.

"He is very kind to share his time with me." Aringarosa agreed and looked to Silas.

"I'm afraid I have to cut that time somewhat short, we have a wedding to prepare for tomorrow." Amelia nodded,

"Of course," she turned to Silas, "when you're free next, maybe we could finish this sketch?" This time Silas did look to Aringarosa, who nodded and held out his hand to usher Silas inside. Silas gave one of his rare smiles to Amelia,

"The wedding is mid-morning. If you would like to continue in the afternoon?" Amelia smiled back in agreement. Silas bowed his head to her once more and moved into Aringarosa's waiting circle of safety. As the two walked away Silas looked back, Amelia where they had left her, her art in hand and a light breeze playing with her hair.

Amelia watched him as well. This man seemed to be two people. One was the man, doing his duty, looking for what every man desired. The other was the child, the broken child hiding behind translucent blue eyes. She had seen both in the short time she had spent with him. Amelia lifted her sketchbook and faced her work. What she saw nearly made her cry.

Those eyes, stared back at her. Those tired, haunted eyes.