Page 11 of Theo of Golden

“Yes, why you?” He took a slow, thoughtful inhalation. “Well, two things. When I looked at all the faces in the gallery and had the idea to find their owners, I thought it would be good to choose the kindest face among them, the gentlest of them all, and give that one first. I didn’t know how my idea might be received, so I asked myself, who looks most likely to humor an old man with a silly idea? There are many kind faces there, you know, but this one,” Theo pointed to the wrapped portrait and then to Minnette, “this one was the kindest. I hoped to begin with someone who seemed forgiving in case I am making a mistake. So that is one reason.”

Minnette held her peace, but her eyes glistened and filled. The kindest face among them?

Everything about the moment caught her by surprise: the reverence with which the old man spoke of her, the gentleness of his voice, the generosity of his assessment. Does he really see that in me?

“But there was another reason. I am almost embarrassed to tell you.

Shall I?”

She nodded.

Theo removed the paper from Minnette’s portrait and held it upright on his knees.

“There is something in these eyes that remind me of a girl I knew many years ago, long before you were born. A girl I knew in Spain. I loved her very much, but I was a foolish young man, and I lost her. She was very beautiful, very intelligent, and very brave. It has been a long time, more than half a century, but still, after all these years, I have never forgotten her, and when I saw your eyes, all this,” Theo moved his fingers tenderly across the portrait, in a caress, on the eyelids, the brow, the cheekbone, “I was reminded of her. And I was so pleased to recall that memory.”

Theo chuckled. “Does it embarrass you to hear an old man who you barely know talking about being in love? I should bite my tongue. But even old men have young memories.”

“No, no, please, tell me more.” Minnette laughed. “I mean, it is rather embarrassing — not really, I’m teasing — but tell me more.”

And so, he did, willing to tell only the truth but not all the truth.

“Well, the girl. She cared for every living thing and for people in the most simple ways. We would go to the park to feed the birds, and she would bring sweets for the children. Oh, how she loved the children. And oh, how the children loved her. She would tell them stories and sing to them. You could look in her eyes, and you could see all love and kindness there.”

Theo paused. His eyes went distant, and the light in them dimmed ever so slightly. “I don’t know for certain, but I think her father was a difficult man. I never met him, but I think he was very much brain and not very much heart.”

Minnette’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed with total attention to the story Theo was telling.

“You see, he wanted her to be a business person, even before women were so much in business, to help run his company and to make lots of money. She wanted to be a hundred things other than that. A mother. An artist. A gardener. She was his only child, and she felt she would never, could never, be what he had wanted of her. She saw only what her father saw, a girl who cared for stupid things. She felt it. She told me so.

“… But my, she was a beautiful girl, a wonderful soul. And when I saw your eyes and your face, Minnette, I saw her. So, I chose you. How could I not?”

Theo paused, his gaze fixed on the portrait. He tapped it with his finger.

“There is strength in this face.”

He paused again. “And bravery.”

Another pause. “And kindness…. Yes.”

And then, a bit more softly, “And sadness. The good kind. It is all there.”

Minnette looked at her portrait in the frame but was clearly lost in thought. She swallowed.

“So, you see sadness?”

Theo gave a small nod of affirmation and grimaced slightly. “The face belongs to one who has suffered loss. That is what I thought when I first saw it. But perhaps I am mistaken. I hope I’m wrong.”

When he turned to look at Minnette, thinking perhaps it was time to find another subject of conversation, he saw that her eyes were pooling with tears.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It’s OK, Mr. Theo. I didn’t know it was so obvious. But…” Her voice broke. Theo remained silent and gave her time to catch her breath. Finally, she spoke again. “The portrait is telling you the truth. Well, sort of. I don’t know that there is any strength or bravery or kindness, but there is sadness in that face. It has been there for a long time, and it seems to get deeper and deeper. It doesn’t really make any sense, and it seems so stupid.”

Theo shook his head. “No, my dear. Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid. The good sadness, I think, is always trying to tell us something very important.”

Minnette let that thought settle in her mind. Was it possible that, so quickly, the innocent exchange of a portrait, an unexpected gift, had opened the hearts of two total strangers to one another, across generations and backgrounds and homelands? That she would bare her soul to an old man whom she had known for only a matter of minutes? That she, the girl who never cried, would do so now?

“When I was a little girl, my parents split up. I was too young to know what was going on, but I’ve heard it was pretty ugly. I come from a long line of blue blood. Do you know that term? It means we’ve been here a long time, respectable, connected, all that. When my parents’ battle was over, my mother moved to Europe, and I’ve hardly seen her since then. And my father is a very, very difficult man.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Being a dad is not his forte. He’s all money, all the time. He still lives here, and I still see him occasionally, and we sort of talk, but it’s all business stuff. Very transactional. You’ve said more fatherly things to me in a half hour than he’s said to me my whole life.”