The Painting of Joy

I stepped into a new room; it was silent and had a mellow light that seeped in through a window with its curtains half drawn. On the wall, adjacent to where I stood was a portrait of a woman; a shawl the color of the sky after twilight was wrapped around her shoulders and when I stepped closer, I could see the detail in the threads of the dark cloth. Her eyes were perfectly drawn, small flakes of blue in a sea of gray. She was the most beautiful person I’d seen. She didn’t smile but she wasn’t stern either; her expression was that of one who was at perfect peace. I stared into her eyes for a long moment then caught myself and checked my watch, it was 4 o’ clock, I had been here too long, Grandmother would be wondering where I was. I had come to my grandparent’s house for the holidays for the first time. I took one last glance at the portrait then walked quickly out of the room; promising myself that I would return. I went to my bedroom and checked myself in the mirror. My brunette curls fell in short locks around my face, I smoothed them down and curled the little runaway strands into the rest of the locket, my eyes reflected the color of my emerald dress. I hurried downstairs to have tea. Grandmother was sitting at the table and sipping out of a delicate China cup with intricate designs imprinted around it in a bright blue color and a gold rim stretching around the top and bottom. She smiled and placed the cup on a matching saucer. “Hello my dear,” she greeted me “come have a seat.” I obeyed and sat in the velvet cushioned chair across from her. The velvet was the color of clear turquoise water on a sunny day and the rest of the chair was a shined silver that wound together in curving connections. I folded a napkin across my lap; a servant came to fill my cup with reddish-brown steaming tea. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Grandmother.” I said. She gave a kind smile, her lips were a soft pink and smile lines ran across her cheeks, her eyes were a light green and her silver hair was piled on the back of her head a few locks came out and framed her face, she was beautiful even at her old age and even reminded me a bit of the woman in the portrait I had just seen. “You are always welcome here, Elizabeth. I’m sorry we haven’t taken you in before.” “There is no need to apologize, Grandmother, it’s my fault.” I confessed, I had chosen to stay at my boarding school over the holidays in the past. “Well, I wouldn’t say so, if I were you, I would make the same choice.” She replied. I sipped my tea, feeling a bit awkward. Grandmother broke the silence, “Your aunt, uncle, and cousin will be coming tomorrow. I don’t believe I mentioned it.” She hadn’t mentioned it and it nearly caused me to spill my tea. I would have to spend all of the holidays with some cousin whom I had never met before! I composed myself on the outside. “I don’t believe you did.” Was all I could think to say. Grandmother continued, “Your cousin, Benjamen, is your age, I think you will like him.” Could this get much worse? If he were older or younger he might leave me alone, but no, he had to be my age. And he was a boy, I couldn’t imagine spending all of the holidays with a boy no matter what age. “Maybe I will.” I said. The rest of the evening past in a pleasant blur. When it was night, I slept in the comfortable bed and dreamed of the woman in the portrait. When I awoke, a maid helped me into a pretty burnt orange dress with the same orange colored collar and ribbon. She tied half of my hair up with a matching hair ribbon. I went down the red velveted staircase dragging my hand along the maple banister. When I arrived in the breakfast room I sat and ate a pleasant meal that consisted of soft bread dripping with golden gooey honey, fried brown sausages, and other delicacies. Grandmother suggested I stay with her to greet the rest of the family. I agreed. Our guests arrived half an hour before midday. I peered out the window to see a horse and carriage clopping over the cobblestone path to my grandparent’s estate. The carriage reached the entryway Grandmother, Grandfather, and myself hurried outside to welcome the new arrivals. My uncle was the first to exit the carriage, he then helped my aunt out, Benjamen hopped out without his father’s hand. My aunt rushed over to Grandmother and they embraced. After she gave all her greetings she turned to me, I almost fell over in surprise, for she looked exactly like the woman in the portrait that I had enjoyed so much the previous day. “Is this my niece Elizabeth?” I smiled and nodded, hiding my surprise “Yes, and you are my Aunt Marie, I suppose?” “Yes, that would be me!” she answered cheerfully.  My uncle was just as I had expected him to be, quiet and reserved. He shook hands with Grandfather, bowed to Grandmother, and nodded to me, with small greetings and thanks for letting them stay at the estate. After that, he was silent. My cousin hugged our grandparents and told them excitedly about the train ride and how he had nearly gotten off at the wrong stop but had realized just at the last second and went back to his seat without any further mishaps. This was not at all interesting to me. Our party ascended the staircase to the door, I attempted small talk with my uncle but that didn’t turn well as he didn’t seem too keen on speaking to me, or anyone for that matter. When we entered, Benjamen approached me “Hello, you’re Elizabeth, correct?’ he questioned. “Yes, and you are Benjamen?” He nodded. “Do you have a middle name? My middle name is my dad’s name.” “Which is…” I prodded. “Oh, James.” He said. “And do you have a last name?” I continued. “Yes, of course. Parker.” “So, you’re Benjamen James Parker.” I decided. “Yes, and what about you?” “I am Elizabeth Laurel Henderson.” I answered. “May I call you Elizia?” Benjamen asked. “If I can call you Benjie.” My cousin paused for a second, considering the offer. “Deal” he conceded, then he continued. “Well then, Elizia, we shall be friends.” It was my turn to consider his offer. “Alright, sure.” I decided, thinking that he might be a more enjoyable companion then I had first thought him to be. Though I couldn’t be so sure. “What should we do? Have you seen the whole mansion yet? I need to show you my favorite room!” Benjie poured out ideas and questions so quickly I couldn’t process anything he said. “Stop.” I interrupted him, laughing. “What are you saying?” Benjie laughed then grabbed my arm “Come on, let me show you something awesome!” “If you’re idea of awesome is almost getting off at the wrong stop, I’m not too interested.” I said jokingly as he pulled me along. Benjie’s cheeks turned the shade of a ripe apple. “No, I promise, this is much better.” he said then laughed along with me. In my glee I hadn’t realized where Benjie was taking me, but now I did. It was the room with the portrait that looked so similar to Aunt Marie. When we walked inside, he finally stopped dragging me around and grandly opened his arms wide, “I present to you, Elizabeth Laurel Henderson, The Painting of Joy.” I was a bit confused; joy wasn’t the exact word I would describe for the woman in the portrait. “The Painting of Joy?” I said, skeptically. “Yes, and guess what. It’s not just one picture, it changes.” He said the last words with a whisper. Chills ran down my spine. “What do you mean it changes?” I asked, also whispering. Benjie moved out of the way so I could see the picture. Indeed, the picture had changed, I gasped. “Whoa, you’re right, it changed.” I said, full of awe. Benjie looked at me quizzically. “You’ve been here already?” I nodded, “Yesterday. It was a portrait of a woman who looked like your mother.” I then thought about the image for a minute “No… your mother’s eyes are brown. The woman’s were blue.” I considered. “Maybe it was Grandmother?” Benjie suggested. I shook my head, “Grandmother’s are green.” I said thoughtfully, then studied the new picture before me. A bright sun shone in a cerulean sky; fluffy white clouds hovered in the its expanse. A green field met the blue sky and in it two figures, what looked to be two women, ran through the field with their arms spread out and wind flying through their hair and clothes. I found myself wishing that I could be in that beautiful day with that amount of joy pulsing through my body. “Is it awesome enough for you?” Benjie asked hopefully. “Yes, it is.” I said a smile spreading across my face. Benjie grinned, “Good, now, from my experience it changes once a day. Have you seen the grounds? I could show you the grounds until we have to eat!” I glanced at my watch “That would mean we only have five minutes to see them.” Benjie’s shoulders fell a little “I didn’t realize how long we’ve been here.” he said disappointedly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be able to see the grounds after dinner.” I assured him. “Now, come on, or we’ll be late!” I added. Benjie nodded and we hurried back downstairs to eat. While we enjoyed a delicious dinner, I noticed Benjie staring intently into Grandmother’s and Aunt Marie’s eyes, probably to see exactly what color they were. I caught his eye and smirked, he looked down acting ashamed, and we both had some trouble not letting our laughter out. After dinner, I ran to my room to change into something I wasn’t afraid to get dirty and that I could move in easily. A dress did not fit these requirements, so after a bit of searching I put on a pair of pants and after even more searching a shirt that was not a blouse. I found Benjie waiting at the doorway, also changed into more casual clothes. He showed me the grounds; they truly were beautiful. There were fields of flowers, a forest full of tall mossy trees, and a small lake where ducks swam and dived to find fish. We spent the afternoon exploring outside. Grandfather found us in the top of a tree breathless and smiling an hour before tea time and delivered the sad message that we had to go inside and get washed up. “But Grandfather, it’s only 3:30, we still have an hour. May we stay out until 4?” Benjie pleaded. Grandfather laughed and smiled, “No, you must get clean, son.” We reluctantly obeyed and were inside for the rest of the day. I went to sleep happy, it had been a good day, and I was ready to see what The Painting of Joy held for us in the coming morning. The next day, just as I had hoped, I beautiful painting awaited Benjie and I. Today, the woman was again in the frame. She held a baby in he arms and was smiling down at it, the child’s hand was reaching up to grasp the hair that fell from the smiling woman’s head. “I wonder if it’s real.” I thought aloud. Benjie’s eyes stole a glance at me then traveled back to the painting. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I mean, I wonder if the woman is a real person.” Benjie shrugged, “You, Grandmother, and Mother look a lot like her, it could be your mother.” My eyes widened, “You really think so?” I had never considered my mother was the woman in the portrait. “Yeah, now that I think about it, it really makes sense.” was his reply. An idea sprang to my mind, “We should ask your mother, she would know!” Benjie shook his head, “I don’t know about that…” I cocked my head, “Why not?” Benjie sighed; he looked tired. “If you don’t want to ask her, we don’t have to.” I added in a gentler tone. He shook his head, “No, it’s fine if we do, she just…” he paused, thinking of what to say. “She misses your mother so much, whenever the subject comes up, she, well, she leaves. I don’t want to cause her anymore pain than she already has.” I knew the feeling he was saying Aunt Marie had, even though I never knew my mother, I missed her, I wanted her back and this idea of a happy picture of my mother every day made me want her even more. Even though she couldn’t see me, I could see her, if Benjie’s theory was correct. I vowed that I would find out who was in the picture, but if I couldn’t ask Aunt Marie, how would I do it? “Eliza, do you want to go outside?” Benjie broke into my thoughts. “Sure.” We went to go get ready and to our dismay, we heard the pitter patter of raindrops splashing against the roof. “Oh dear” I said “What now?” Benjie grinned, “We play in the rain, obviously.” But right when he made his declaration, a roll of thunder rumbled in the air. Benjie’s shoulders slumped “Or not” he said, most disappointedly. “There’s plenty to do inside. I haven’t even seen the whole mansion yet. Why don’t we explore in here?” I suggested. Benjie looked at me wryly “Why don’t we find the secret of that painting?” I grinned, “Where do we start?” Benjie thought for a second before replying, “I believe there’s a hall with portraits of the family, somewhere in here. I’ve never seen it before, but I heard Mother talking about it.” “Let’s ask Grandfather where it is.” I suggested. “Alright, but first we’ll have to find him.” After searching through the large house for a full quarter hour, we found Grandfather in the library. He was lounging on a cushioned chair, reading a very thick book. Benjie and I stood watching him for a little, wondering if he’d ever look up. When he didn’t, we walked over, Benjie cleared his throat, “Grandfather,” He finally looked up from his book, “Ah, hello children. What do you need?” “We wanted to know where the hall with the family portraits is.” I piped up. “A good wish, I shall show you.” Grandfather rose from his chair and set his book on a small marble table next to it.  “Come along.” He said; we followed him out of the library. He went through the halls expertly and guided us along until we reached a section of the mansion I hadn’t seen yet. We arrived in a hallway that had about ten portraits lining the wall. I treaded down slowly on the deep burgundy carpet, passing beautifully portrayed pictures of my family. Soon, I saw a portrait of Grandfather; next to it was Aunt Marie’s painting. I motioned to Benjie, “Here’s your mother, Benjie.” I called to him. He came over and gestured to the one next to hers, “And there’s yours.” I looked at the portrait and gasped. It was the same as the first image on The Painting of Joy; the only difference was I knew she was my mother and that made it so much better. I could feel my eyes fill with tears as I longed for her in my life more than ever. Grandfather came to my side, “You know,” he said to Benjie, “your mother painted these.” I turned to him, “Really?” “Yes, she painted me and your mother. It was only a year before she…”  he trailed off. ‘Died’ was the word that he didn’t say. And then it hit me, Aunt Marie must have painted the magical painting! I grabbed Benjie’s arm, “I have it! I know who painted the painting! I don’t know how she did though.” Benjie caught up to me as I ran out of the room and tried to remember how we got to the hall. “Who?” I remembered and went quickly down the halls, not worrying to inform Benjie. I made it into the library and continued through to the parlor. I found my aunt, uncle, and grandmother sitting and talking. “Aunt Marie! Come with me, I need to show you something!” My aunt looked up and smiled, “Alright, I’m coming.” She rose and, picking of her long, sapphire blue skirts, followed me. I led the way to the room that had me so enraptured the first day I was here. I opened the door and pointed to The Painting of Joy. “Aunt Marie, did you paint that?” I inquired. My aunt’s eyes filled with tears and she held the doorframe. “Yes, darling, I painted it. I painted every good memory of your mother in that painting when she died.” Now tears were trickling down her face, Benjie grabbed her hand. “I kept it a secret, I didn’t know you had seen it. I’m sorry, I should have shown you. It changes, you know, I painted many memories and they change to each one every day. I don’t even know how.” I nodded, “It’s wonderful, thank you.” Aunt Marie stepped over to me and took me up in her arms, she held me close. I rested my head on her shoulder and breathed her in. I felt that with a joyful painting of my mother, a wonderful cousin Benjie, and a loving aunt, I might have a family after all.