by Claire Fogel
Mom commented, “I take it there is no dress code on campus, Mrs. Gardner.”
Our guide, who looked younger than Mom, laughed. “They’re artists, Mrs. Blackthorne. We’re just happy they cover themselves.” I stifled a giggle.
As we walked between buildings, she explained that there were two buildings where classes were held, three buildings holding the various art, sculpture, and photography studios, and two buildings for student dorms. She led us into one of the buildings so we could see some of the studios where students were working.
My father seemed interested in the sculpture studio where half a dozen students were working with various materials. “Fascinating,” he muttered.
I was more interested in the art studios where students were working at large easels and the air was full of the smells of paint and turpentine. Francis Sullivan’s studio smelled the same way. I breathed it in, suddenly feeling at home.
When I heard my mother gasp, I looked up at the front of the room. This was obviously the Life Drawing class, and there was a model posed on a table. He looked at me and smiled. He was a good-looking young man with long blonde hair and dark eyes. He was also nude. Very nude, completely exposed, with not even a fig leaf. He looked perfectly comfortable up there, a lot more comfortable than we were.
There was a young instructor walking around the room, commenting on his students’ work. When he spotted us standing at the rear of the room with Mrs. Gardner, he walked over to us. “Is this your first tour of Barrett?” he asked.
When I nodded, he chuckled. “Mrs. Gardner seems to enjoy the shock value of my class.” He shook his head at her, but she was smiling, obviously enjoying our reactions.
He looked at me. “Will you be studying at Barrett in a few years?”
I nodded. “Next year actually. I graduate in June.”
“How old are you?” he asked me.
“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen when I graduate.”
He smiled. “You’re very young. What do you usually draw or paint?”
“Landscapes mostly.”
“Any people in your landscapes?”
“Yes, in some of them.”
Grinning, he said, “But I’m sure they’re all clothed, aren’t they?”
I could feel my face getting warm. “Yes, they’re all clothed. I suppose I’ll have to get used to the absence of clothes, won’t I?”
“Well, yes, but not until your second year here. These students are all at least a few years older than you. I’d better get back to my students. What’s your name?”
“Cara Connelly Blackthorne. And you?”
He bowed slightly. “Daniel Goldman, at your service, Cara.” He also bowed to my parents and left us to check on the progress his students were making.
Mrs. Gardner led us through the building where we could peek into several more large rooms where art students were working. I was glad to see that none of the rooms seemed crowded. There was even music playing in most of them, creating whatever atmosphere that particular group desired.
We left that building and walked to another one where regular classes were held. “Here is where you’ll learn all about Art History, going all the way back to the cave drawings in France. It’s fascinating stuff, Cara. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
We walked all around the campus, and I was pleased that none of the buildings were very far from the others. The last building she took us to was one of the dorms.
Looking at Mom, she said, “The dorms are co-ed, and I don’t know how you’ll feel about that. Some of our first year students choose to live off campus.”
We walked into what looked like a two-story barracks. There were rooms along a central hallway, and they seemed to be very close to each other. When she opened the door to one, I could see why. The room was tiny, and it held two beds, so dorm rooms were obviously shared.
Mom muttered, “It’s the size of a closet. Two students are supposed to live here?”
Mrs. Gardner nodded. “I’m afraid so. They used to be single rooms for one student, but as we grew, students living on campus had to double up.”
I had a feeling we were being watched, and I turned abruptly, facing the hallway where a young man clad only in a towel was standing in the doorway across the hall. He grinned at me and winked before closing the door.
Mom had seen him too. She and my dad exchanged glances. “I think we should investigate off-campus housing, Mrs. Gardner.”
She smiled. “I thought you might. Most of the homes that surround the campus have been turned into apartments for students. Some are very nice, although a little pricey. You should drive around this part of Syracuse when you leave. You’ll see the homes I mentioned that are rented to students. The best time to rent one is in June, when many students are leaving. I’ll give you a few phone numbers before you leave.
“I haven’t taken you there, but there’s also a Café on campus where many of our students eat. It’s not expensive and the food’s actually quite good. It’s run and staffed by students working part time, and many of them are extremely inventive cooks.”
The expression on her face told me she was remembering a particularly memorable meal. I had to smile, wondering whether “inventive” was another word for inedible.
“We also have a small bookstore that carries a little of everything. Now, is there anything I haven’t mentioned?”
Mom and Dad looked at me. “Just one thing. What’s the deadline for applications?”
She asked, “Are you sure that Barrett is the right fit for you?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Absolutely sure, Mrs. Gardner. I can’t wait to start.”
“Good. You’ll just need to schedule a meeting with our Dean of Students, but that can wait until January, and be sure to being your portfolio when you come.”
We thanked her for the tour and walked back to the parking lot. Mom and Dad talked about everything we’d seen on our tour, but I was quiet, my mind full of how my life would change in the next year.
That night I dreamed of being at Barrett Art Institute instead of my missing bodyguard. It was a welcome change.
Thanksgiving was a week later. It had always been just three of us, Mom, Kevin, and myself. Kevin’s mom always had listings to take, houses to show, and other real estate business to attend to, even on Thanksgiving. I wasn’t sure the woman ever took a day off.
This year, however, we would have a larger crowd at our table. My father would be with us for the first time at Thanksgiving, along with Kevin and his dad. The Elves didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. They celebrated Harvest in October. However, we’d learned that our Elves were always ready for a big meal, especially if my mother was cooking it.
Sean and his parents were in Boston with his mom’s family for the holiday. He wouldn’t be back until Saturday. Amy’s family always shared Thanksgiving with their next door neighbors. This was the first year our kitchen would be full on Thanksgiving.
Mom was getting the turkey ready to put in the oven and I was busy chopping celery and onions for stuffing when the phone rang.
I was surprised to hear Randi’s voice, sounding a little depressed. “I just wanted to wish you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving, Cara. I’m really missing Thornewood today.”
“Randi, it’s always good to hear from you. What are you doing today? Is your aunt cooking?”
“Uh, no. My aunt doesn’t really like to cook. She’s going to one of her friends’ houses for Thanksgiving. She told me I could go with her, but I don’t really want to. Some of her friends are a little too friendly, if you know what I mean.”
“So you’re alone on Thanksgiving?” I was shocked.
“Well, yeah, but there are a lot of good old movies on TV today, so I can entertain myself. And the Chinese restaurant down the street is open; they deliver.”
“Randi, do you have gas in your car?” Mom looked over at me and nodded. She knew I wanted to invite Randi to share Thanksgiving with us.
“Sure.
My gas tank is full. I was considering driving to Thornewood today, but my dad’s away so I really have nowhere to go.”
“Yes you do. My mom just invited you to have dinner with us. How soon can you get here?”
“Cara, do you mean it? It wouldn’t be an imposition? I mean, Thanksgiving is for families.”
“Consider us family, at least for today. We really want you to join us.”
She sounded a lot happier than she had when she called. “I can get there in under an hour. What can I bring?”
Mom said, “Tell Randi to bring an appetite. We don’t need a thing.”
“I think you heard her.” I laughed. “Mom’s making enough food for an army.”
“Cara, please thank your mom for me. This is so nice of you. I’ll see you in an hour.”
I couldn’t help smiling when I got off the phone. “Thanks, Mom. I think we just made one lonely teenager happy.”
Mom said, “I feel sorry for that girl. Her family should be doing a lot more for her.”
I agreed. I was reminded how lucky I’d always been. My mother had always been there for me, and my friends had always been welcome at our house. I had taken a lot of it for granted.
With Mom’s recipe in front of me, I continued chopping and then mixed the stuffing ingredients together and got it ready to put in the oven later. I might not know how to cook, but I could measure and mix as well as anyone. I had just started peeling the sweet potatoes when the doorbell rang.
Kevin always came early, and always brought something we could nosh on before dinner. This year he’d brought caramel popcorn for us to munch on while the mouthwatering smell of roasting turkey filled the house.
While Kevin poured the popcorn into a large bowl, my father came in the back door with Kelly O’Rourke, Kevin’s dad. They were both wearing big smiles.
My father was carrying a wooden crate. “This is my contribution to your Thanksgiving dinner, Alicia. A limited amount of wine is made in Elvenwood every year from our own grapes. I talked our winemaker into donating a few bottles for my first Thanksgiving with family and friends.”
My father set the crate on the breakfast bar where I was working and unwrapped one bottle of wine. “It’s a white wine, Alicia, similar to the Sauterne you’re familiar with.”
Mom took the bottle out of his hands with a smile. “It sounds perfect. I hope you don’t mind; I like white wine chilled. I’ll put it in the fridge until dinner’s ready.”
Glancing around at all the activity in the kitchen, Dad said, “I think Kelly and I will get out of your way and go out on the porch. Just call me if I can help with anything, Alicia.” He poured two cups of coffee and they went outside.
Mom had Kevin getting down the special serving dishes she only used during the holidays, and I started grating orange peel for the sweet potatoes.
When Kevin sat down next to me, I gave him some veggies to chop for the salad I’d make later. “We’ll have one more for dinner, Kev. Miranda Ross will be joining us.”
I explained her situation in Greenville, and he asked, “So where’s that boyfriend of hers? Sounds like everyone deserted her today.”
Mom said, “We always have room for one more at our table.”
When Randi arrived, I gave her a hug and introduced her to my parents. Mom welcomed her with a smile. “Glad you could join us, Randi.” I took her out on the porch to meet my father and she reacted the way everyone did when they saw my dad for the first time. Once she regained the power of speech, she said hi to Kevin and his dad.
Dinner was as wonderful as always. Actually, it was more wonderful this year with my parents together and friends joining us. We all ate too much, of course, sitting at the table talking over coffee and tea long after we’d finished eating. I don’t think anyone wanted to leave, which was fine with me.
As I looked around the table at the smiling faces, I was reminded that there was one face missing. I would have given anything if those cobalt blue eyes had been looking back at me. I did my best to push that thought out of my mind.
By the time we’d cleared the table and put away the leftovers, the sun had gone down. I thought it was too late for Randi to drive back to Greenville, so I invited her to spend the night. She called her aunt, but had to leave a message when there was no answer.
“I’m sure she won’t mind, Cara. Most of the time, she’s barely aware I’m there.”
Mom smiled. “You two can enjoy a girl’s night, staying up late and talking. I’m sure I’ll hear you down here later for a midnight snack. Just have fun tonight.”
And that’s what we did. Randi did most of the talking. Her life had really been difficult for the past two years since her parents had separated. It sounded as though she hadn’t had anyone she trusted enough to unload on. We talked until our eyes began to close around two a.m., and we never did get that midnight snack.
Randi stayed with us until Saturday when she had to leave because she had a date with—ugh—Joey. We’d actually talked about him, and Randi knew I thought she could do better. A lot better. But she hadn’t been able to make any new friends at her new school, so Joey was better than nothing as far as she was concerned.
Before she left, I told her our door would always be open whenever she got homesick for Thornewood. Mom and Dad both let her know she’d always be welcome, and she left a lot happier than she’d been when she arrived.
The weather was warm for late November. I planned to spend some time in the woods in the afternoon, maybe even do some sketching. It had been over a month since I’d spent time at my favorite spot by the stream.
I wouldn’t allow myself to think about the hours I’d spent there crying the day Adam left. But I thought maybe if I had a drawing pad in my hand, I might be able to think about my artwork instead of my broken heart.
When I reached the stream, I got comfortable on a bed of fallen leaves and focused on the autumn sunlight shining through the tall pines at the south side of the forest. I had drawn these trees so many times, it wasn’t a new scene, but the play of the sunlight as it touched the ground captured my imagination. In one spot a hardy purple violet had clung to life as if to say, I’m tough and I’ll still be here in the spring. That violet made me smile.
Like the violet, I’d survive and I’d still be here in the spring.
I drew the trees and the tiny violet, paying special attention to the way the light changed from one spot to another. Capturing the changes in the sunlight had me completely absorbed and it was quite a while before I realized someone was standing behind me.
When I looked up, Conor was smiling down at me. “I’ve missed seeing you drawing out here, Cara. We won’t have many more days like this one, I’m afraid.”
He sat down next to me in the leaves. “May I see what you’re working on?”
I handed him my drawing pad and watched as he examined it closely, nodding in a satisfied way. “You’ve gone deeper into the small things that make the forest so alive.”
He smiled at me as he handed the drawing back to me, his silvery eyes sparkling. “Well done, Cara.”
“I’m glad you like it. I think I’m seeing more than I used to see.” I shook my head. “I really can’t explain it. It’s like my eyes have been opened a little wider.”
“You’re right. I almost expected to see the tiny beetles that live just under the surface of the soil.” He laughed. “So when are you going to start painting? Your father told me you’re in the process of moving from pen and pencil to watercolors.”
I groaned. “Yes, and it’s a real challenge. But I can get more vivid colors with paint, which will bring a lot more life to my landscapes. Francis Sullivan is patiently waiting for me to master watercolors. He’s offered to show some of my work at his art shows next year.”
“I’m not surprised. Your artwork is beautiful.”
We both heard someone coming closer, kicking at the fallen leaves. We looked up as Sean came into view. He stopped, clearly surprised to find Conor
sitting on the ground with me.
Smiling and looking slightly embarrassed, he said, “Cara, your mom told me where I could probably find you. I have Dad’s car this afternoon so I took a chance and drove over. Hi, Conor. I haven’t seen you since Cara’s parents’ wedding.”
Conor stood up to greet Sean. The similarity in their looks was becoming more obvious the older Sean became. Two extremely handsome, tall blond men, keeping me company out here in the forest. It would make any girl green with envy. I couldn’t help smiling.
Sean walked over and sat down in Conor’s place. “What are you working on today?”
I showed him my drawing and he started to smile. “Cara, this is beautiful.”
Conor added, “I’ve been telling her how much more she’s able to see in the landscape now. This one will look great in color.” He smiled at us. “Well, I’ll be off now. Glad to see you both today. Enjoy yourselves!”
He waved to us, heading west toward my father’s camp.
Sean said, “I’ll be glad to keep you company if you want to stay and work on that drawing.” He chuckled. “I’m so full of turkey, I thought I’d enjoy a burger later. Want to join me?”
Actually, a burger did sound good. “I think Mom was planning on hot turkey sandwiches for dinner, so a burger at The Grille would definitely hit the spot. Don’t get me wrong, our Thanksgiving turkey was great, but I don’t think I can face any more turkey until maybe next week.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Even though we had turkey at my aunt’s house, she sent Mom home with some leftovers, so turkey’s on the menu at my house tonight too.”
“Well, try to make yourself comfortable while I do a little more work on this picture. By the way, that picture I was drawing for your parents is finished. You can take it home with you.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thanks, Cara. I’ll get it framed next week.”
Sean sat watching me draw until the sun had sunk too low to add anything more to my drawing. I placed it in my folder and stood.
