Page 61 of Fatal Fame
"It won't take long," he said with the kind of gentle persistence that suggested the request was important to him.
She nodded reluctantly.
Morrison led her out into the hallway and into another room where a large painting hung on the wall. The artwork appeared chaotic and disturbing—splashes of dark colors that seemed random and violent, with no discernible pattern or meaning.
"You see this? A friend of mine created it."
"Uh-huh," Mia said, studying the confusing canvas.
"What do you make of it?"
"Well, it's just..."
"A mess? Chaotic? Ugly even?" Morrison asked.
She nodded, feeling somewhat guilty for her honest assessment.
"And you would be right, when viewed from this perspective." Morrison stepped up to the painting and carefully rotated it 180 degrees. "I hang it this way initially because it creates a conversation. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words."
As the painting turned, Mia squinted at the transformed image. What had appeared chaotic and disturbing now revealed itself as something entirely different—a beautiful landscape with rolling hills, a peaceful lake, and a sky filled with birds in flight. The same brushstrokes that had seemed random now formed a coherent, even inspiring scene.
Morrison stepped back. "And now? What do you see?"
"Well... it's beautiful. It makes sense."
"Exactly. It's all about perspective, Mia. I don't have all the answers about life and suffering and why bad things happen togood people. I just know there's a plan that's bigger than what we can see from our limited vantage point. We see the ugly parts, the pain, the chaos. But I often wonder if, once we're on the other side and free from these earthly limitations, we'll see the order and purpose that was there all along."
"Like a rug," Mia said suddenly.
"A what?"
"You know how on one side of a tapestry, it's all loose threads and looks chaotic, but when you flip it over, you see this intricate design—beauty, order, perfection."
Morrison nodded with obvious pleasure. "Yes. Now you understand what I'm trying to say."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, both contemplating the painting and its lesson about perspective. Despite her skepticism about religion, Mia found herself moved by Morrison's gentle approach to faith and his willingness to acknowledge uncertainty while maintaining hope.
"Thank you for your time," she said finally. "And for sharing that."
"Anytime, Mia. My door is always open."
Outside St.Joseph's, Mia sat in her car beneath the shadow of the bell tower, processing the information Morrison had provided. The restraining order against Travis Rudd felt like a significant piece of the puzzle, especially if the documentation had mysteriously disappeared. She pulled out her phone and dialed Evelyn Cross.
"Evelyn, I just spoke with Rebecca Hale's minister, and he mentioned that Rebecca had obtained a restraining order against Travis Rudd. But I don't see any reference to that inthe information you gave me, or in Pierce's notes, or even in Gideon's research."
"That's because officially, the harassment complaint vanished," Evelyn said, with the frustration of someone who'd encountered bureaucratic stonewalling. "I looked into it extensively. Chalked it up to town rumors without substance."
"But do you think there was any truth to it?"
"Nothing can be dismissed entirely, but without evidence, it falls into the category of unverified claims."
"Though if the minister was aware of it, there's a strong possibility that it was real, right?"
"Possibly, but without documentation, Mia, it's nothing but hearsay in legal terms."
A sharp rap on her car window made Mia nearly jump out of her seat. She glanced to her left to see Gideon standing beside her car, his expression serious but apologetic.
"Thanks, Evelyn. I'll talk to you later."
