The old man looked with a critical eye at his painting and softened as he realized he had done almost every detail of the background. He gazed out the window, then at his artwork. The scenery was identical, but something was missing. His wife, Mrs. Pintigan, placed her hand on his shoulder. He knew she was tired ofalways being second to his work, but he couldn’t leave itunfinished. He had a vision; it would be gone bymorning.

"I’m sorry," he said. She smiled, but there was a longing in her smile.

"I’ll make you asome tea. Looks like it’s going to be a long night," she whispered. She walked down the hallway, looking at all their photos.Most people their age had pictures of children and grandchildren, but they had pictures of the assisted. She picked up the cracked tea kettle.

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to break it! Please don’t get mad at me. I just wanted to surprise you with a cup of tea. Please don’t make me leave now, you know I’m not ready. I really am truly sorry.

Sometimes the old woman had flashbacks of the children they had helped. They would usually be memories fromlong ago, but this one was from only a few days before. After the incident, she and Mr. Pintigan had agreed that Leo had stayed with them too long. Instead of becoming independent, he had become too attached.

Suddenly she realized her husband was painting his memory of thenight Leo left. The sky had looked exactly like tonight. He was making amemory. He made them whenever they got attached to one of the assisted,so that the children would always be with them. All her husband had left to do was to paint Leo, but that would take a long time. He would render every detail, his uncombed hair and freckles. She mustn’t distract him, or the memory would change and all the hard work and teachingswould get erased; Leo would return to what he was before.

The old man closed his eyes and painted. It wasn’t hard drawing Leo, but his character and personality were almost impossible to capture. But it had to be done, or Leo would be gone forever.

* * *

Leo had left the Pintigan residence a week ago. As he closed the door, he took one last look at the house. It was plain but rich, and he wondered what was the secret to the old couple. It was dark outside, but the darkness no longer scared him. He was a man now. He wason his way to find the secret to life, as the couple said. He used to scream at them to leave him alone, but that was all before. Now he was actually going to live.

He walked through the forest. The trees seemed as though they were closing in on him and he felt like a little boy again. The trees are my friends, he thought. That’s what Mrs. Pintigan had told him. She always seemed so wise, but then she’d had a lot of practice with the others. But there was something about the way she treated him, as though he were special. She and her husband had always been so kind, except when he’d wanted to paint with Mr. Pintigan’s colors. Then the old man would respond with a harsh "No!" and leave the room. Leo never understood why. He asked Mrs. Pintigan why his paintings were so special and she’d only said, "He has his reasons."

Leo decided to rest. "You mustn’t try to take shortcuts," Mr. Pintigan had told him, so he decided to stop for the night. "Day one," hesaid to himself, and fell asleep.

"Here, this was one of my favorites when I was a little girl ... it is called Sleeping Beauty," whispered a woman with long blond hair.

"Ew, Mommy, that’s a story for girls!" laughed the boy.

The woman glanced at him with amused annoyance. "Shhh. Once upon a time..."

Leo awoke. He hadn’t dreamt of his mother for avery long time. He dozed again.

"Child, don’t bescared. You’re alright."

"Who are you? I want my mommy!"

"My name is Mrs. Pintigan and this is Mr. Pintigan."

He followed them, not knowing why.

"This will be your home for a while," she explained.

"But where is Mommy? She promised she would come. She said ‘Wait right here and I’ll be back,’" the boy cried.

"Mommy’s not coming back. She was in an accident. She got hurt."

"Mommy’s gone?" theboy cried.

"Only a part of her, but you can still see her," the old man spoke for the firsttime.

"Where?" asked the boy,comforted.

"Oh, you will learn in good time, child," said Mrs. Pintigan, showing him inside.

The sun’s rays brushed his face. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

* * *

"It is complete!" announced the proud man. The painting was beautiful. A young boy walked toward the sunset; the rays making him look as if he were glowing. The woman sighed in relief. The boy would make it; the painting ensured his future.

"You need some sleep. Tonight has exhausted you. It’s not good for your health," said Mrs. Pintigan. They went to their bedroom, but neither could sleep.

Mr. Pintigan heard his wife’s muffled crying, "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I don’t know what is happening to me. I usually don’t get this emotional when one of them leaves," the old woman answered, wiping her eyes.

"This one was special, which is why the painting was so easy to make. We all knew he would not be left alone," explained her husband. "It’s time for us to sleep now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

* * *

Leo had already made his breakfast when he startedwondering about the Pintigans and what waited ahead. He knew he must find a village and start a new life. He thought about helping others as the Pintigans had helped him. But he knew they had a secret to their success. Mrs. Pintigan had always told him he would make a great writeror storyteller. He loved to sit with her on the grass and write.

Leo took his notebook from his backpack that the couplehad organized for him, and began jotting down words: Mother, Journey, New Life, Painting, Sun, Pintigan ...

He jerked back. Rearrange the letters and there it was, the secret to the elderly couple. He looked at his words again: Pintigan and painting. Why hadn’t he realized it before? The paintings must mean something!

***

"Do you think we should explain everything to him? He needs to understand." Dawn had come and Mrs. Pintigan worriedly woke her husband.

Mr. Pintigan held her close and murmured, "You need not worry, he will figure it out. He is bright. Also, if he does not figure it out on his own, how do you suppose he’ll manage? What do you plan to tell him, ‘We help children who deserve a future and after we train them for real life, we send them off. Then we paint a magical picture to ensure their future will be bright?"

She sighed heavily, "I guess you areright. I trust Leo and love him, as if he were my own son." She closed her eyes, and drifted back to sleep.