Chapter 63

**Bella-Rose POV**

I checked my mail account for the nth time. No mails. If I watched it any closer, I may turn into The Eye of Sauron.

The last mail was of him saying about the demise of his near one. After that one-nil. Nada. Zilch.

Maybe he is too busy arranging the funeral. After all, he cared about that person enough to visit his place.
I wish I was there with him. What must he be going through all alone! Has he eaten anything, or was he lost in grief? Is someone there to console him, to give a shoulder to cry on, to lean on them, to remind him to take care of himself?

I doubt it. James is one proud person. He wouldn't lean on anyone if he could help it. I still remember how he was there for me in my moment of need.

But how to be there for him when he needed that same level of comfort? I'm no powerful person. Nor do people open doors when they hear my name. In fact, they will slam it loudly on my face, case in point-Scott when I tried to visit his place yesterday.

Though Scott is not counted as a human being, so it could be an exception. However, it would be nice if people roll a carpet for me when they hear my name...uh...the feeling. Focus!!

My point being, my name has the same value in the outer world that a treadmill in my home. Hence my current dilemma. Neither can I create waves when I enter a place like James nor can I make things happen with just a snap.

However, I'm adamant enough. So, what, I couldn't be there for him? I could prepare something for him here and share it with him. Only what? What do you give a person who seems to have anything? If it's a guy like Scott, then I would just have bought some food coupons and felt satisfied. But we are talking about James here. It has to be special.

With this thought, I held the weapon that I haven't used in years. This better is than worth it. You owe me for this James, I muttered under my breath as I armored myself.

It's been years since I put war paint on my face, but for James, I have to step foot on the field. How hard could it be? I later realized it's pretty hard.

If you are wondering about which battle, I'm going to, it's a battle that involves a lot of colors. Painting. And no, I'm no professional artist. It's just a hobby of mine in my teens to waste my time when I got bored with decorating cupcakes.

However, there arises a problem or three. One, it's been too long. Two, I feel like I'm missing something. Three, there is this fear inside me that he will laugh at my hard work.

Thus, after spoiling 3 canvases, I gave up and sat in a corner holding my head. No matter how much I try I couldn't get his features right. How could I? I never saw his face.

Maybe I should draw from a different angle. With that in mind, I strode towards my now once again empty canvas with a new determination.

It took me 4 long hours to get it right. However, when I was done, I felt like it was worth the effort.
It was a picture of James and me dancing under the midnight sky that was filled with shiny stars and a crescent of the moon, wearing our finery. I thought we looked like this on that day at the ball to the onlookers.

I wore the same color dress and he wore the same color tux, except his back was to me. I can see only his silhouette. However, my face is clearly showing the earnest look I was giving to him.

I want him to see how I look at him. Only...it looked like I'm suffering from constipation. What! I'm no daughter of Picasso. All I have are some cakes decorating skills. What else can you expect from a baker?

However, I think I have done justice to him...or specifically his ass. Shouldn't forget about the details. They are so important. I might have given an extra stroke or two. You couldn't blame me. It is that attention-worthy. You too would have done the same.

I sighed and took a step back. Once finished, I looked at it carefully, tracing each stroke with my eyes. This...is us. Him with his perfection and me with my...I don't think the word constipation suits here.
Anyways, I carefully put it aside not to damage it in my excitement and thought about finally getting some sleep.

The next morning, I contemplated my next step. Since it's my off day, I could deliver it. But... How to send this 'masterpiece' to him? Maybe it's time to exchange phone numbers, I guess.

For now, how to trace him? I hope whoever he was visiting is in the city itself. If he is in the city then what? Am I ready to meet him?

His words came back to me.*** I won't hear a no again.***

I will think about it then. Maybe I could just courier this to his home. Hmm...yes, the idea has merit.
But how do I find out his address? Godmother, I need your blessings.

I pulled my laptop into my lap as I laid on my bed and said to it,

"Ok Google, show me, James...James what?"

Shit! I don't know his last name. How could such important detail slip my mind? Great! I fell in love with a man without knowing his full name.

Wait! (Cars screeching sound can be heard in the background) love? When did it change from like to love?

Oh my god...oh my god. Mayday! Mayday! I need help to think this through.

After finishing half of my B&J's cookie dough flavor ice cream, I calmed enough to analyze the situation.
Ok, I love James. Hot as hell James. No big deal. Nope. Who is freaking? I'm not. Not at all.

**After half an hour**

I'm lying down like a dead corpse, gazing up at my ceiling, as I took slow, long, and deep breaths. I can do this. It's normal. Happens to everyone. Look at mom and dad. Nana and Mathew. Scott and... let's go back to mom and dad.

There is nothing to freak out about. I chanted this mantra until my anxiety reduced. Once I got hold of myself, I thought about how to find James's address.

And voila, I had a light bulb moment. Agatha. The link that connected us in the first place. How could I have forgotten?

Since I already know the address of her home, I quickly got ready in a button-up split dress with small polka dots on it that shows my legs when I walk.

I packed some soft cookies for Agatha as well. After carefully wrapping the painting, I placed it in the back seat of my car.

I didn't bother taking the painting out of the car once I parked. Instead, I took the package that has cookies in them and walked towards the front door.

I scanned the neighborhood, to look for the man who made a vanishing act when he heard the word 'payment'. No sign of him though. Phew!

What if she isn't here? After all, James shifted her to some other place from that hospital. What are the chances of Agatha being here?

I thought this as I stood undecided in front of the door. However, my worry is for nothing as the door opened before me, and standing there is none other than Agatha.

"Hi...I'm...Umm, you might not know me. I'm Bella. The girl who helped you", I said shyly as a blush crept up my neck for not thinking before sprinting to her place.

"Oh...Bella! It's so nice to meet you. I have been waiting for your visit for so long. Why are you standing there? Come inside", Agatha said as she pushed the door wider.

My blush intensified when I heard that. Better not to raise the topic of James.

"Uh...I thought James shifted you to some other place. Otherwise, I would have visited sooner. Sorry", I said politely.

"Ah...yes. Silly me. I never got to say thank you to you", Agatha said as she clutched my hands tentatively in her hands and pulled me close in a hug.

I felt like I'm hugging one of my family members.

"It's no big deal. Anyone would have done the same", I said with a blush.

"Not anyone", Agatha said pointedly looking at the window that covers the neighboring house.
Ah...someone must have said to her.

"It depends on the person I guess", I shrugged.

"Well, it's all water under the bridge now. What can I get for you?", Agatha said as she got up and walked towards the direction of the kitchen.

"Nothing. Please sit down. Are you sure you are allowed to do chores?" I asked worried about her health.
"Bah! You and James both are the same. He too worries about the same thing", Agatha said as I trailed behind her.

"Is that so?" I asked as my body tingled with the notion that our thoughts are aligned.

"He is like that. Always thinks about others", Agatha said as she scrunched up her face in worry.
"Yes. He is. I worry about him too", I said lost in my thoughts.

"You do?" Agatha asked surprised

I turned red at the slip-up. How to cover this? Why am I covering?

"James and I, we...we chat through emails", I confessed, feeling as if I should have done that sooner. Agatha seems like one of those persons who makes you feel so content that you will spill your guts without planning to do so.

"Interesting. I believe it must be going on since my operation?" Agatha pressed for information.

"Uh...yes", I said looking at my hands that are dampened with nervousness.

"Very interesting", Agatha responded with only that word.

"Actually, I came with a purpose to meet you", I wet my lips as I continued, "You must have heard about a recent funeral James attended"

"He talked to you about that?" Agatha asked, her face colored surprised.

"Yes...somewhat. Anyways, I was wondering can you give me his address?", I probed

Agatha looked guarded as she scrutinized me. "May I ask you the purpose?"

"Um...I did a painting for him. I was thinking to drop it off at his place", I said as I turned red.
"A painting? Did Mr. McKenzie commission it?" Agatha asked formally as she folded her arms and looked at me. It's hard to interpret her intention like this.

"No. Nothing of that sort. I just wanted him to know that someone is thinking about him...worrying for him", I trailed off, lost in my thoughts as I tried to come clear.

"I see," Agatha said with a spark in her eye.

After we had a cup of coffee that I helped her with, Agatha set the cup on the side table and turned to me.
"Can I see this painting?" She inquired, intrigued with this new set of events

"It's in my car. I will bring it. Please take this, I brought this for you", I gave the package of cookies, nervously.

I quickly went to my car and carefully brought my painting inside the living room.

"These are really nice", Agatha said as she munched on.

"Thanks, I made them myself", I said proudly.

I then slowly unwrapped the painting, heedful of the newly dried colors.

Once I turned the painting towards Agatha, she sucked her breath.

"Can you tell me the story behind it?" She asked after staring at it for 5 minutes.

"This is how we met for the first time", I said as I nibbled my bottom lip.

"And did you look at him like that then?" Agatha probed

"Yes...I think so", I hope I conveyed my feelings through this.

"You are a girl with many talents," Agatha said after a long breath.

"So will you give me his address?", I asked hopefully

"Unfortunately, James is not in the city", Agatha said curtly.

"Oh", I responded feeling let down.

"You can put it here if you like. I will personally deliver it to him once he comes back", Agatha suggested. That would mean...I won't be meeting him. Disappointment mingled with relief passed through me.

"Do you mind? I'm sorry you must be resting, not overtaxing with my work", I asked to be sure. After all, she is still weak, and pushing her to do my work is not my style.

"Not at all. Compared to what you have done to me it's nothing. Leave it here. I will give it to him after he returns", Agatha said with a straight face, her demeanor slightly taking a transformation.

"Thank you for helping me. Are you sure?" I asked once again as her ambiance is at odds with her words. She must be thinking that I'm taking advantage of her or James.

"No problem at all", she responded with her mouth set in a thin line.

A hollow feeling enveloped me as I sensed subtle disapproval from her. I shouldn't have confided in her. Maybe she doesn't like me for James. Who could blame her? After meeting him I constantly question myself that how did I end up with a man who is way out of my league!

However, what's done is done. Instead of coming here, I should have emailed James with the picture of this painting. Without further ado, I bid adieu to her and walked past.

"Bella...do you love him?" Agatha asked me as I was about to step foot outside.

"I...I... I better get going. You need your rest", I hastily said and almost sprinted to my car.

"Yes, of course", Agatha said to herself as she looked at the retreating figure.