by Claire Fogel
Although Lily and I didn’t have any classes together, we waved at each other in passing. I was happy to find that Paula and I had every class together. As I got to know her, I enjoyed her quirky perspective on life as well as her rather painful honesty. No matter how hard she tried, her drawings inevitably turned into cartoons, much to her despair. Our drawing instructor just shook his head, although he couldn’t help smiling at her work. He finally admitted, “Paula, it’s a gift. Don’t knock it.” Which cheered her considerably.
I loved my class on Watercolors. The instructor was excellent, showing us how to layer colors, without making them muddy, and how to use shading and texture to increase the drama in a painting. I’d figured a lot of it out by trial and error, but the finer points were new to me.
As the instructor, Mr. Roth, was looking over my shoulder at my work one day, he said, “I remember seeing similar technique at an Art Gallery in Albany last spring. I think the artist’s name was . . . Cara.” He frowned at me.
“That was your work, wasn’t it?”
I admitted it probably was since I had exhibited two watercolor paintings in Albany.
“Why are you in school, Cara? I would expect any artist whose work actually sells to be painting full-time, not studying a craft she has already mastered.”
“Mr. Roth, I haven’t mastered anything yet! There’s so much more I want to learn. I don’t know anything about painting with oils, I think my watercolor painting still needs work. The only thing I’m really confident about is my pen and ink drawing.”
He raised his eyebrows and stared at me. Finally, he nodded. The man rarely smiled. “Well, you’re an unusual first year student. You could probably teach this class.” He walked away, looking over the next student’s shoulder.
That student looked over at me, wide-eyed. Once Mr. Roth had passed by, he asked, “Your paintings already sell?”
I nodded. He moved closer to look at my work. “I can see why.” He put his hand up for a high-five, grinned and said, “By the way, I’m Tim.”
Unfortunately, my oil painting class was my undoing. I struggled, day after day. I tried round brushes, flat brushes, thin brushes, but the effect I was trying to achieve continued to elude me. Mixing oil paints wasn’t the same as watercolor paints. Maybe Francis Sullivan could tell me what I was doing wrong. The class instructor, Miss Alvarez, couldn’t. I didn’t really think she was doing any actual instructing.
Since my oil painting class was my last class of the day, I usually left campus feeling discouraged as I walked home to spend time with Ralph before dinner. If the weather was nice, I’d take him for a walk. Sometimes that was enough to cheer me up.
A few weeks into the semester, I was leaving the house with Ralph when Lieutenant Fox pulled up at the curb. He got out of his car, clearly surprised to see Ralph with me.
“When did you get a dog?”
I smiled. “Seven years ago. I’ve had Ralph since he was a puppy. He didn’t like being left behind when I moved here. My mother said he’d stopped eating, so I decided to bring him to Syracuse if Miss Williams would allow it.”
He nodded with a smile. “Obviously, she did.” He bent down to say hello to Ralph, who was sitting, watching the Lieutenant alertly.
It took Ralph a few minutes to decide that the Lieutenant was a friend, finally offering his paw.
Lieutenant Fox smiled, scratching under Ralph’s chin. When he stood, he said, “I hope he’s a good guard dog, Cara. He looks big enough to defend you, if it’s ever necessary.”
“He is, Lieutenant. I know I can trust him. I was about to take him for a walk. Care to join us?”
“I wish I had the time, but I’m due at headquarters. I just stopped by to check up on you. Everything’s okay?”
“Everything’s fine as long as it doesn’t involve oil paints,” I said, shaking my head.
He laughed as he climbed back into his car. “Can’t help you there. Sorry.”
A group of us met for dinner at the Café most nights. There were Lily, Paula, Joel, Freddy, Tim from Watercolor class, and Ginger, when she wasn’t on duty as the Café’s cook. The menu that night was Spaghetti and Meatballs, everyone’s favorite. I’d been missing our traditional spaghetti night at home with my parents and Kevin.
I’d had a few emails from Kevin, who said his classes were keeping him so busy, he barely had time to eat. He still had to find time to work on the video games he was contracted to design. Apparently, his studies didn’t allow him much free time. As a result, he wasn’t sure he’d be coming home for Thanksgiving. I knew that would make Amy unhappy.
I emailed him back to remind him he could design his video games at home as well as in his dorm. As an added incentive, I promised that Mom would be happy to fatten him up.
My dinner group was always lively, including complaints about second year instructors as well as my ongoing fight with oil paints. Tim couldn’t understand how someone who had my deft hand with watercolors could have such a hard time with oils.
I would have to find time to ride to Elvenwood to see Francis Sullivan before I gave up on oil paints entirely.
One night as I was walking through my neighborhood with Ralph, about three blocks from my apartment, I saw the old green van again. It was parked away from the nearest streetlights, so I didn’t recognize it at first. As we began to walk past it, Ralph pulled hard on the leash, obviously finding something about the van interesting, trying to get close enough to sniff the at the back doors. I tried to pull him back since it was possible someone was living in the van. Miss Williams had already told me it didn’t belong to any of her neighbors.
“Come on, Ralph, leave it. There’s nothing for you here.” I yanked hard on his leash until he gave up and returned to my side, his head still turned toward the van. As we continued down the street, his head kept turning back toward the van. I wondered what it was that he found so fascinating.
My parents were celebrating their first wedding anniversary in October and I knew they wanted me to be home that weekend. Their wedding day was also the last time I saw Adam Wolfe. He’d left Blackthorne Forest early the next day, leaving my heart in pieces.
Working up the necessary smiles and cheer was not going to be easy. But I knew my father, who was usually tuned in to my emotional state, would be aware of how I was feeling and would understand.
I drove back to Thornewood with Ralph on Saturday morning. It had been raining for two days, and it showed no sign of stopping. The weather was totally in tune with my mood. Due to the storm, I took my time driving home, wishing all the other drivers would do the same. Naturally, there were a few who thought doing eighty miles per hour in the pouring rain was a good idea. Idiots.
When I allowed myself to think about this day a year ago, I remembered the excitement I’d felt when Adam finally broke down and kissed me for the first time. And I remembered the heartbreak followed by the deep, dark depression that had never totally left me after he was gone.
I was doing my best to push those memories out of my head so I could at least try to be happy for my parents. Their wedding and their love, after sixteen years of estrangement, deserved to be celebrated. I couldn’t wear a gloomy face this weekend.
Despite the rain—and the blues that might be with me forever—we had a fun anniversary celebration for Mom and Dad. Amy joined us for dinner Saturday night, and Conor came over for Sunday brunch. Good food, cooked by my mother, of course, and good company raised my spirits.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to ride to Elvenwood to see Francis Sullivan. Thanks to the third day of constant rain, the forest was too muddy to be safe enough for me to ride. I’d have to wait one more week and hope everything would dry out by then.
Over dinner, Mom surprised me by saying she’d spoken to Lieutenant Fox.
“Tommy O’Donnell stopped by to let us know he’d been in touch with the Syracuse police. He said your case had been referred to Lieutenant Aidan Fox, who knew the history of the case and woul
d be keeping an eye on you, Cara. Has he been in touch with you yet?”
“Oh, yeah. The Lieutenant has actually become a friend.” I grinned. “I ran into him shopping one night, and he helped me get my new TV home and even set it up for me.”
Amy looked interested. “What’s he like? Is he good looking? How old is he?”
I laughed. “Calm down, Amy. Lieutenant Fox is 28, single, and when he smiles, he’s drop dead gorgeous.”
She gasped. “I have to come up for a visit. Soon!”
Mom was chuckling. “And when he doesn’t smile?”
I thought about it. “He looks very stern when he’s in cop mode. But I can usually make him laugh.” I smiled. “He and Ralph have become friends.”
As usual, my father sat quietly, apparently enjoying our conversation, just smiling and occasionally chuckling. It was at times like this that I remembered he was an Elf, not a human like Mom. And Amy and I, both raised in the human world, probably acted more like humans than the Halflings we really were.
The only thing missing tonight was Kevin. “Amy, has Kevin decided whether or not he’s coming home for Thanksgiving?”
She rolled her eyes. “Cara, we need to talk.”
Uh-oh. Trouble in Paradise.
“Let’s go out on the back porch for a few minutes. I owe Rowenna a song.”
We left Mom and Dad in the kitchen, enjoying their wine, and stepped out on the porch. It was still raining, but I didn’t want to neglect my dragon friend.
I began to sing her song, hoping Rowenna would hear me over the rain. We didn’t see her in the sky tonight, but when I was finished, I heard her voice in my head.
Thank you, Cara. I can hear sadness in your voice. Next time we’ll talk about it. My song sounded beautiful. Thank you for coming out in the rain to sing for me. I’ll see you next week, yes?
“Yes, my friend. Next week.”
I looked over at Amy, who was staring at me with a bemused expression. “Rowenna’s song is lovely, but kind of eerie. Every time I hear you sing it, I get goose bumps.”
“Do you want to talk out here, or upstairs in my room where it’s warm and dry?”
“Your room please.”
We went back inside and headed for my room, after pouring coffee to take with us.
Mom smiled at us. “It’s so nice to see you both here, Amy. Brian and I miss you girls, and Kevin too.” She chuckled. “My grocery bill is smaller since he left for school.”
Amy didn’t even smile, so something was obviously very wrong.
When we got up in my room, Ralph was already asleep at the end of my bed. I pulled my desk chair over and invited Amy to sit while I curled up next to Ralph, who wagged his little tail a few times and went back to sleep.
“What’s going on between you and Kevin?”
She sighed. “I thought I could deal with his being away at school. He promised to call me every night, send funny texts like he used to, and come home for weekends as often as possible. But it’s not happening. I haven’t talked to him in over a week, and that last phone call lasted a whole minute.
“Cara, I know he’s busy with his classes. He’s said they’re harder than he expected, but his whole attitude toward me seems to have changed. Like I’m barely an afterthought, you know? I don’t feel like I’m his girlfriend anymore, more like a friend he’s outgrown.”
I felt bad for her. I knew that people often changed when they went away to college, but it’d only been about six weeks.
“Amy, maybe you should email him and be honest about this. Let him know exactly how you feel and see what he has to say. I hope you’re wrong about his apparent lack of interest, but if he’s really changed that much since he started school, you need to know.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just afraid he’ll tell me it’s over, that we have to go back to just being good friends.”
“Are you in love with Kevin? Did you think he was your mate? Was it that serious?”
She thought about it and then shook her head. “Not exactly, but close. Is the mated thing something that hits you all at once, or is it a more gradual thing?”
“Well, I’d have to say it’s gradual, like the way my relationship with Adam developed while he was my bodyguard. He became a close friend, someone I totally trusted. But when he kissed me at Mom and Dad’s wedding, it almost felt like an epiphany, like something I’d wanted badly, without being aware I wanted it. You know? I knew immediately that everything between us had changed. I knew I was in love with him, that I’d never want anyone else.”
“It’s been a year, Cara. Do you still feel the same way? Hasn’t anything changed for you?”
I snorted. “The only thing that’s changed for me is that he’s not here anymore. I’m really angry that he left, but I’m still in love with him. If he came back, I’m not sure whether I’d want to hit him or throw myself into his arms. Maybe both.”
I could see she was thinking about it. “I wouldn’t describe my relationship with Kevin that way. Maybe we’re not mates. Maybe we’re just good friends who discovered we’re physically attracted to each other. Maybe it’s a case of out of sight, out of mind.”
She said she’d email him this weekend, and we went back downstairs. She had borrowed her mom’s station wagon and needed to get it home.
“Mrs. Blackthorne, Mr. Blackthorne, thank you so much for inviting me for dinner. It was really great seeing you both. Please invite me again!”
Mom smiled and got up to hug my best friend. “Of course, Amy. You’re always welcome here. Stop in any time. We miss you too.”
Dad smiled and kissed her on the cheek, which always left her blushing.
I walked Amy to the front door and she hugged me tightly. “I really do wish I had a free weekend now and then so I could come up to Syracuse and visit you. I’m envious.”
She giggled. “I’m also curious about that handsome cop!”
“I’ll tell you what. Any time you aren’t tied up with bakery or catering business, call me and come on up. I’d be willing to stay at school for the weekend if you were visiting. It would be fun.”
“I’m going to work on that, Cara. Just keep those emails coming. I look forward to them a lot, you know.”
She ran down the steps in the rain and jumped into her mom’s car as quickly as possible, tooted her horn and took off. I felt badly that Amy wasn’t happy. She deserved to be.
When Conor came in the back door to join us for brunch the next morning, he wore a big smile and gave me a warm hug. “Cara, I’ve missed you. Are you enjoying Art school?”
Conor was one of my very favorite Elves. He considered himself my “big brother” since he’d been watching me grow up since I was a toddler. He was always available to me, whether I needed answers to questions, or a shoulder to cry on. And I’d done a lot of both with Conor.
“School’s great, Conor. I really enjoy most of my classes.”
I told Conor and my parents about all of my classes and instructors. Including my present difficulty with oil painting. They were all surprised that I didn’t like working with oil paints.
“I don’t think it’s my medium. I much prefer watercolors and pen and ink drawing.”
My father said, “I’m sure Francis can help you with oils. You’ll just have to be patient until the weather clears. Even I haven’t been able to slow down this constant heavy rain.”
I was surprised. My father had an unusual affinity with weather, sometimes controlling both wind and rain. But apparently, not this time.
Mom had made pancakes and my favorite quiche. I stuffed myself because I knew I wouldn’t be eating quite this well at school. The various students who cooked for the Café were good, but not as good as my mother.
By the time we’d cleared the table, the rain had become lighter and I thought it would be a good time to drive back to Syracuse.
We said our goodbyes and exchanged hugs, my father holding on to me longer than usual. He finally whispere
d, “I know how you’ve been feeling, sweetheart. I’m sorry you’re still in pain. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
But, of course, there wasn’t, not unless he knew where Adam had gone and could bring him back to us.
I fastened Ralph into his harness and we ran through the rain to my car. Once I had him hooked to a seat belt, I waved goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Conor and drove away.
The trip back to Syracuse took longer than usual, thanks to the non-stop rain. By the time I pulled off the highway, my neck was stiff again and I knew I’d need an icepack when I got in.
When I reached the yellow house on Birch Street, I was surprised to find Lieutenant Fox parked in front. I got out with Ralph and walked to his car window.
“What’s up, Lieutenant?”
He got out of his car. “Chief O’Donnell called me while you were on the road so I decided to come over and wait for you. How was the drive?”
He sounded anxious.
“It was fine; just very wet. Let’s go inside. Sounds like you’ve got some news I won’t like, and I’m already wet enough.”
We entered my apartment and I headed into the kitchen. “I have some really great herbal tea that relaxes me. Would you like some?”
He stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “Herbal tea? Sure, I’ll try it. My mom thinks I drink too much coffee.”
I boiled the water, poured it into my new teapot and added the tea leaf infuser I’d brought from home. “Have a seat, Lieutenant. The tea will be ready in about five minutes.”
He sat down in the kitchen with me, looking unusually serious.
“Okay, why did the Chief call you today?”
He looked like he was trying to figure out how to explain something he knew would upset me.
“Come on, Lieutenant. I’m tougher than I look, remember?”
He smiled, giving me an apologetic look. “Yes, I remember, Cara. Okay, here it is. The driver of the car who hit you has disappeared. He seemed to check out, his I.D. was genuine, it was verified that he was an accountant from another town, just visiting friends in Thornewood. But when the Chief tried to contact him with a few more questions, no trace of him was found. The house is furnished, his damaged car is in the garage, but his clothes are gone and no one has seen him for a week.”
