With Love, from Cappadocia ❤️

Chapter 16 - Chase the Truth

Peter

Oh, I'm so late.

Peter looked at the directions again as he walked faster. Deep breaths in and out as his black boots hit pavement.

On the inside, Peter was anxious and jittery, rehearsing things he could or should say. But to the occasional passers-by, Peter looked like a well put together man, with his dark trousers and nice button up coat to keep the chill away.

Peter stopped outside the door and took in a deep breath. Shoulders straightened, he clutched the soft pink flowers in his hand.

As he opened the door, faint melodic music could be heard. The first thing he saw when he walk in was a large canvas.

It was as if he had been transported back to that day when Bea had shared a horse with him.

The background of the painting was of soft pinks and purples, gently swirling and merging with white to create a beautiful sunset he remembered very well. So well in fact, he could almost smell Bea's delicate scent and remember the feel of her.

Peter smiled as he stepped closer to look at the different hot air balloons Bea had placed with a touch of whimsy in the sky of the painting.

He followed the carefully arranged layout. Around the slight crowd of people who had come. The first few paintings were bright cheerful pieces, images of Turkey with its magic landscape and majestic hot air balloons.

Peter glanced around, Bea not in sight.

Where are you Beatrice?

Peter saw an information desk with two young women behind it. He made his way over to them.

The two young women giggled a bit and nudged shoulders as Peter walked up.

While the shorter one asked how they could help, the taller one eyed Peter and then looked behind him. Back and forth her eyes went between Peter and something behind him.

"Eh, yes. I was wondering if you knew where I might find Beatrice Love?" Peter shifted as the tall woman continued her perusal of him.

The tall woman whispered into the shorter ones ears. The short woman giggled as she looked at Peter then behind him.

Peter tensed and with a huff turned around.

He stared into his own face.

Peter's neck started to feel warm. He stepped closer to look at his doppleganger.

Bea had taken the drawing she had made of him, and put it to canvas. Sleeping Peter with his untidy dark hair, laid out carefree before tensed Peter.

Peter turned back to the women at the desk, with the intention of asking after Bea again, when he felt an arm slip through his.

Bea?

Peter looked as an oppressive scent assaulted his nose. He went rigid as he stared at Lucille. "What are you doing here?"

Lucille arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Aren't you happy to see an old friend Peter dear?"

Peter shrugged out of her vice-like grip. "We are not friends Lucille. How did you know I would be here?"

"I have my ways. Your sweet mum is just dying for you to settle with a good woman." Lucille smirked and looked around. "Why are you at this horrid little show? I've seen better."

Peter grit his teeth.

"Peter dear, if you wanted to see art, I'm sure that can be arranged. Why don't we go back to mine and-"