“The same Katerina lives within.” He reached across and put a hand on her shoulder. “Follow your heart.”

* * *

Keely kept to the path through the vines that led to the little tin roof she could see from the back verandah. While Flynn had occupied the studio, as he and Euan called it, she had avoided coming this way on her walks around the property. Now that Flynn had moved back to the house she was keen to get a closer look at the studio and the river. This path was well worn and the obvious choice.

She’d given up on her sketching. The portrait of Jack was coming along but the bright promise of the morning had turned to a murky, dull afternoon. There was no wind but an almost ominous gloom hung in the warm air and large, dark clouds clung to the horizon. It had made her feel restless and she’d decided to explore.

The vines suddenly gave way to an open space and she was standing at the back of the studio. There was a door in the middle of the ramshackle wall but the newly cut grass grew right up to it and Keely had the impression it hadn’t been opened for a long time.

She followed the path around the building. In front of her the river meandered away to a distant bend. In the poor light of the late afternoon, the water was a deep green, a reflection of the trees that bent over it, some caressing the water with wispy branches. It was a restful sight. The path continued on down to the edge of the water, then split and followed the bank in both directions. The studio had been built above a slight bend in the river so that the front door faced a long stretch of water..

Keely dragged her gaze from the river and turned to look back at the old structure. The tin roof was speckled brown with rust. There was a wobbly verandah right across the front. The building was made of wooden slats and at one end a chimney reached above the roofline in a tower of solid brick. From the front, it looked old but not neglected. The remains of a garden still grew around an old birdbath and someone had mown the grass and cut it away from the flagstone steps that were an alternate route to the front door.

She looked around. The interest she had in the building overcame her fear that she was snooping. It was dark under the verandah and she was keen to get a closer look. She stepped up the flagstones. The front was paved with an assortment of old bricks, and two cane chairs sat either side of the door and an old bunch of dried lavender hung on the wall.