Jonah gave her arms a gentle squeeze, one part reassurance and one part to hold her upright. He looked at the blank space, seeing it with the background Vanessa envisioned, and much more.
“What—what have you done?”
He guessed she wasn’t talking about the scaffolding he’d had a crew put into place that ran the length of the wall and would allow her access all the way to the ceiling.
No, she was referring to the more than two dozen pen-and-ink sketches—her sketches—that he’d spent most of the day collecting from people in town, and tacked them to the wall. Including the one she’d done of his father.
“There is your inspiration, Vanessa.” He pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one arm around her waist when she leaned into him. “You’ve already captured what makes Rust Creek Falls so special. The people. The people who live here and call this place home.”
“But those are just practice sketches. They’re not real art.”
“They are real because the people are. I know your previous works are abstract contemporaries with intense, broad strokes of color, but the details in those simple portraits up there are just as powerful.”
She remained silent, shaking her head as if she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—believe him.
“Okay, maybe the mural won’t include Charlie, who owns the gas station or Daisy from the donut place, or Gage, the town sheriff. Maybe Nate is looking for more historical figures, not to mention places, but that’s just research.” Jonah pushed, hoping she understood what he was trying to show her. “You can commemorate those special people and places because you’ve already done it. On a very basic level, maybe, but it’s an important one. At least to the people who’ve kept and displayed your work.”
When she still didn’t say anything, he decided to go all in. Spinning her around, Jonah gently pressed against her chin until she looked up at him, the distress and anxiety in her gaze breaking his heart.
“Maybe your talent isn’t blocked, per se. Maybe it’s changing, at least for this project. You talked last week about how you’d get lost in your art. You can’t do that this time. You’re going to have to get up close and personal with every person, every place you include in the mural. You’re going to have to be all in, one hundred percent involved.”
Doubt filled her beautiful eyes. “I don’t know if I can.”
He motioned to all the drawings on the wall. You already have. Believe in yourself, Vanessa. In your gift.” He pulled her into his arms. “I know you can do this.”
She looked over her shoulder again at the wall. “They do look pretty good up there, don’t they?”
Jonah grinned. “You bet they do.”
A long moment passed as she studied her work. He waited silently, not wanting to push her any more than he already had.
“I’m just about there,” she finally said, turning back to face him again. “But I think I know what will convince me one hundred percent...”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
She smiled. “At least a half dozen of those tangy, spicy wings sitting on that blanket over there.”
Jonah laughed. “I love a woman who’s not afraid to eat. Okay, Ms. Brent, let’s have some dinner while you let my reasoning percolate inside that pretty head of yours.”
They moved to the blankets. Vanessa sat and started serving up the food while Jonah lit the lanterns as the sun was already starting to set. He joined her and poured them each a glass of wine. They ate, and he waited until Vanessa was halfway through her stack of wings before he approached a subject that had him curious.
“When did you first start painting? I mean, I read about you coming onto the art scene when you were just a teenager. Had you been painting for a while by then?”
“I took my first art lesson when I was in the second grade. It was either that, ballet or swimming. I wasn’t crazy about being up on my toes or putting my face in the water, so I picked art.” She licked at her fingers, a natural side effect of eating wings, and then wiped her hands on a napkin. “I think my mother wanted me to be a dancer.”
“Are either of your parents artistic?”
She shook her head, a shadow falling over her eyes. “No, they are—were—very smart, analytical people. They were both financial wizards, met and fell in love while working for the same brokerage firm before opening their own. My mother became a stay-at-home mom after I was born to concentrate on her charity work and me, especially after I was discovered. She died ten years ago, when I was sixteen.”
Jonah’s heart ached for the pain he heard in Vanessa’s voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Was she ill?”
Vanessa nodded, her gaze focused on the plate in her lap. “Yes. Breast cancer. It was less than eight months from her diagnosis to her death. My father, who’d always been a distant presence in my life, chose to handle his grief by throwing himself into his work, while I found solace in my painting. It was a way for me to express my pain and my grief.”
“That must’ve been a tough time for you.” He reached out and took her hand, not surprised when she held tight to him.
“It was, but I had good friends and people who were there to take care of me. And my art. The pieces I produced after I lost her were the ones that really put me on the map as an artist.”
“All while still being a teenager?”
She nodded and took another sip of her wine.
“Is your father still living in Philadelphia?”
“Yes. He wasn’t crazy about my idea of moving out here, but I think he’s finally accepted that I’m happy with my new life.”
Jonah wondered how the man could be distant from such a wonderful woman as his daughter. “Not the life he pictured for his little girl?”
“Well, when I dumped my cheating ex-boyfriend a couple of years ago, who just happened to be one of his star executives—and yes, my father set us up—he thought I was making too much of a fuss. As proud as he claims to be of my art, I think he would prefer if I lived a different lifestyle.”
Pushing aside his anger at the man who’d hurt her, Jonah found it hard to believe Vanessa was as casual about her estranged relationship with her father as she seemed. Maybe because his relationship with his parents was so tight. Still, if her life, and his, had taken different paths, who knows if they ever would’ve met.
“Hey, do you hear that?” Vanessa released her hold on him to turn and gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room. “It’s raining. I love that sound.”
Jonah listened as the tiny clicks against the glass told him Vanessa was right. “Very soothing. My favorite is the hiss and crackle of a fire. Hey, I’ve got an idea.”
He pushed aside their dinner and stretched out on the quilt, piling the pillows beneath his head. Holding on his hand, he beckoned her to join him. “Come on, let’s lie here and just listen to the rain come down and the fire burn.”
She smiled and his heart gave a little lurch, almost as if it was trying to tell him something. She crawled across blanket to him.
Resting her head on his chest, she put an arm across his stomach and cuddled up next to him. “This is nice. Thank you, Jonah...for everything.”
He found he had more he wanted to ask her, more he wanted to know. About her hopes, dreams and plans. But there was time for that later.
Right now, being with her like this was enough.
Chapter Nine
“And then Jonah turned me around and there on the wall were my sketches.”
Vanessa sat in one of the folding chairs scattered around the meeting room in the community center. It was Wednesday night and she was here for the Newcomers Club meeting.
Most of the members were female and the club was a way to make friends and he
lp the recent transplants adjust to their new lives in the rural town.
“I’ll admit I was really worried about being unable to paint for the last—well, for a long time, before I even moved to town,” she continued, stirring her coffee.
She hadn’t planned on sharing that side to her story, but once she’d started talking, everything came out. “But now, thanks to Jonah, I’ve been sketching like a crazy woman for the past few days, even though I’m not sure who or even what will be included in the mural. It just feels so good to have the creative juices finally flowing again.”
“Hold up, I’m still back at Jonah blindfolding you. That’s something Nick hasn’t done to me.” Cecelia Clifton, who was originally from Thunder Canyon, had moved to town a year ago to help in the flood recovery, following in the footsteps of her then best friend, now-fiancé Nick Pritchett. She took the seat next to Vanessa, a saucy grin on her face. “At least not yet.”
“Not to mention Jonah whisking you away for a romantic picnic at the resort, complete with a roaring fire and listening to the rain,” Callie added, joining them. “Now, that’s creative.”
“And after seeing the way the two of them get all wrapped up in each other while dancing at the Ace, I’d say he’s already got her juices flowing,” Cecelia added.
Vanessa laughed along with her friends. It felt good to be surrounded by smart and funny women who looked out for each other. A tiny pang centered in her chest, and she quickly rubbed it away, accepting it for what it was, a reminder that while the sisterhood-like bond she’d shared with Adele could never be repeated, she was lucky to have found new friendships since moving to town.
“Ladies, I’m talking about the mural,” Vanessa insisted, “and the fantastic resort being built outside of town. Is all you want to talk about is my love life?”
“Yes!”
Her friends answered in unison, joined by Mallory Franklin, who was now engaged to one-time local playboy Caleb Dalton. Another newcomer, Mallory worked for Caleb’s father, the town’s only lawyer.
“Boy, this doesn’t sound like the Jonah Dalton I’ve heard about,” Mallory added. “Caleb described his cousin so differently over the last few months.”
Vanessa turned to her. “That’s right. Your husband and Jonah are family, aren’t they?”
Mallory nodded. “Caleb said he and Jonah were more than cousins growing up, they were best friends. He was even Jonah’s best man at this—oh, you do know he was once married, right?”
Taking a quick sip of the still-too-hot coffee, Vanessa hoped the cup’s rim hid her mouth when her smile slipped. “Yes, I know.”
Not that Jonah had shared any more details about his ex-wife—or the reason for their divorce—with her. She thought they might talk about it during their picnic, especially after the way she’d opened up to him, but that hadn’t happened.
She was curious, but he’d made it clear his stay in town was only temporary and he wasn’t looking to get involved, so Vanessa worked hard to keep their times together fun, easygoing and firmly entrenched in the present.
Even if doing so was a bit harder on her than she’d thought it would be.
She loved spending time with him, be it dancing or movies or the horseback-riding lessons he promised her.
But after he’d surprised her with his take on the new direction her talent was heading and how much he believed in her, she’d finally accepted a tiny corner of her heart would always belong to him.
Even if he continued to hold himself just a little bit apart from her.
“Caleb made it sound like Jonah hadn’t been seriously involved with anyone since his divorce,” Mallory continued. “At least, not anyone in town.”
That made sense considering what Jonah had told her about sticking close to the ranch and concentrating on working on the cabin during his previous visits home.
Was it wrong that she was secretly thrilled no one else had caught his attention before? Or maybe that was because he had someone back in Denver?
No, he’d told her he hadn’t been involved with anyone in a long time. How long was long? Weeks? Months?
“Well, he doesn’t live in Rust Creek Falls full time,” Vanessa said, realizing her friends were staring at her as if waiting for a reply. “He’s only in town through Christmas, just until the renovations on the resort are complete and it opens for business.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Cecelia said. “You two make such a cute couple.”
“We’re having fun and enjoying each other’s company.” Living for the moment, she added silently, because as she’d learned all too well, sometimes that’s all we have. “Nothing more.”
Nothing but wonderfully fervent kisses, generous touches and a simmering sexual hunger that she’d been sure they would’ve satisfied Friday night if the man hadn’t fallen asleep on her.
“Hmmm, now why don’t I believe you,” Cecelia said with a grin. “That’s quite a devilish gleam you’ve got in your eyes, Vanessa.”
“Do I?” She feigned innocence, wanting to keep her and Jonah’s private affairs just that. Private. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Callie laughed. “Oh, I feel sorry for the hordes of lonely cowboys bemoaning their lost chances with you. You’re definitely off the market. At least for the next few months.”
Yes, Vanessa considered herself taken, for as long as Jonah was in town. When she found herself wishing things might last longer, she stopped, reminding herself that being with him now was better than not at all. “Well, there are plenty of ladies to go around for them to concentrate on.”
“Could we talk about something else, please?”
Vanessa and her friends turned around and found another member of their club, Julie Smith, standing there.
As close as the rest of the women were, Julie always seemed to be a bit aloof. Not in a snobbish sort of way, but more as if she wasn’t sure she belonged in the group although everyone had been friendly to her.
“Is something bothering you, Julie?” Vanessa rose from her seat and went to the girl, who barely looked old enough to be out of college, especially because she always wore her long blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail. “Have we upset you?”
“No, it’s just...” Julie’s voice trailed off and she sighed, looking down at the plate of cookies in her hands. “It’s silly, but all this talk of men and dating and the invasion of females looking for love...I wish— I mean, no one’s even asked me to...”
Vanessa understood, sharing quick glances with the others when Julie’s voice faded away.
Yes, her friends liked to tease her about her numerous first dates since coming to town, but it seemed Julie was having the opposite problem.
“You know, I’m sure between all of us ladies we can do a bit of matchmaking,” Vanessa said. “Find you a nice guy.”
“Oh, no, I’m not—I mean, I don’t want—” Julie shook her head, sending her ponytail flying. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
Vanessa wasn’t so sure, but their conversation was over for the moment as Lissa Christensen, the columnist whose blog put Rust Creek Falls on the map after the Great Flood, had arrived to talk about the big holiday party in the works to celebrate the grand opening of the new resort, to be held on Christmas Eve, of course. Everyone hurried to take a seat as the ideas began to fly.
After the meeting wrapped up, Vanessa had stuck around to help clean up. She had to admit, the idea of her art being such a big part of the resort was still a bit scary.
She loved what Jonah had done to convince her to see her talent in a new light, but what she really needed was to do some research. Perhaps someone at the mayor’s office could assist with getting her some history on Rust Creek Falls and the other towns Nate had mentioned.
“Yes, seek and you shall find the answers you need.”
There stood an elderly woman dressed in bright colors, a couple of mismatched shawls wrapped around her shoulders. Her weathered face and gray hair, worn in a braid wrapped around her head, spoke to her age, but Winona Cobbs had kind eyes and a warm smile.
Originally from Whitehorn, Montana, Winona had come to town a couple of months ago to give a talk here at the community center about trusting your inner psychic. As a nationally syndicated advice columnist, she was also well known for her special gift.
“How do you know I’m searching for something?” Vanessa asked.
“We are all searching, in our own way, our own time.” Winona then offered a smile as she moved slowly toward a seating area outside the center’s main office. “The heart knows what it wants.”
Vanessa grabbed her tote and followed the old woman. “What I’m looking for is information. It has nothing to do with my heart.”
“Of course it does. Your gift comes from your heart, your soul and your brain.” Winona sat, her hands folded in her lap. “All must be in harmony so you can share that gift in your painting.”
Oh, this could be just the person she’d been looking to find!
Taking the other empty chair, Vanessa leaned forward. “I’m guessing you’re quite knowledgeable about some of the prominent families and their histories of Montana’s past?”
“The things I know of...things connected to the past,” she answered slowly, “and to the future are great indeed.”
“I would love to sit and talk with you, to get some ideas for the mural. Would that be okay?”
Winona nodded. Vanessa opened her tote and pulled out her sketchbook. Opening to an empty page, she grabbed a pen and waited.
“Jeremiah Kincaid, of the Kincaid Ranch in Whitehorn, was a rancher. His granddaddy was one of the first settlers of that town, but it was Jeremiah who made Whitehorn his town.”
Vanessa hurried to take notes. “Who else might I include?”
“Have you ever heard of the ‘Shady Lady’ of Thunder Canyon?” Winona asked. “Miss Lily Divine ran a respectable saloon, but, of course, there were those who were sure the bar was just a front for its true business—a house of ill-repute. Miss Divine covered it well, but there were always rumors. Like with most things.”
The Last-Chance Maverick Page 12
