Angie jumped up and squealed, “Really? You think I could be good?”
He gently put his right arm around her shoulders, and she didn’t pull away. He whispered, “Yes, you have the gift. All we need is a few months to smooth out your rough edges. Can’t you give me the time?”
Angie stepped away and sighed. “Professor, you must understand. I’m married. I can’t just spend time away from home.”
“It’s a sacrifice. I can only imagine how hard it is to leave a loved one at home and devote one short summer to your dream.” He placed his arm around her shoulder again and pulled her closer. “But your painting is exceptional. You could be good enough to own the gallery of your dreams. Surely your husband will allow you the time necessary to reach your true potential.”
Angie bit her lips until it hurt.
“I only have time to help one gifted artist every summer,” he said, drawing a long breath. “I want that student to be you.”
Moisture dampened the corners of her eyes. She flushed, not wanting to cry in front of this man. “I can’t. I just can’t. I should leave,” Angie said, and headed out the door. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
As she found Mister Tubbs on the back porch, the professor caught up to her.
“I don’t want to pressure you.” He gasped, slightly out of breath. “My passion for the arts is so strong I forget myself at times. Forgive me.”
“I need to go. I have to call a cab. I can’t follow this dream. It’s too late.”
“Nonsense, I’ll drive you back to the hotel.” He patted her arm and stepped closer. “Please reconsider my offer. There is no such thing as too late. I see the qualities you possess.”
As the professor drove in silence, Angie slumped in the front passenger’s seat with Mister Tubbs tucked tightly in her arms. He snarled at the professor and watched his every move.
They reached the hotel, and the car slowed to a stop. Professor Turner came around to the passenger’s door and opened it for her. Then he retrieved the dog carrier from the backseat.
“May I call you next week? Accept my offer. The cottage would be yours for the summer. I would respect your privacy. We could meet daily for one-hour lessons and the rest of the time you would never see me.”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks for understanding.”
“Here’s my card, call anytime.” He pressed the business card into her hand. “If your husband loves you, he won’t destroy your dreams.”
Yes. An understanding husband might be open to her going, but Jonathan rarely fit that description. As he drove away, she lingered by the hotel entry, her hand against the glass door.
I want this, Mister Tubbs. Am I crazy?
#
The professor leaned forward from his perch on the sofa. His eyes staring up toward the ceiling, his hands on his lap, positioned into a steeple. She would agree to come. He must make plans now for her arrival. Nothing would be left to chance. Whistling “You Are My Sunshine,” he gathered up his legal pad and pen and began to write.
Chapter 17
Angie spent the afternoon with her Kindle. As she read, she found herself daydreaming about the professor’s offer. Years had passed since she’d painted. Her skills required rebuilding. In the past, she’d tried to paint, only to find herself lacking motivation—the brushes, awkward in her grip, her artistic eye no longer trained. Would a couple of months return her skills? Her painting for the professor held glimmers of her past work. She’d be gone only nine short weeks. Not such a long time, really. But Jonathan would never agree.
The professor’s voice rang in her head. Surely, a loving husband wouldn’t destroy your dreams.
Mister Tubbs stirred in her lap, where he had slept for the past hour.
“Hello, Sleepyhead. We need to talk.”
His black eyes widened.
“I have a wonderful opportunity to polish my painting skills. But you would have to stay home with your daddy. Professor T is allergic to you.”
Mister Tubbs stood at the mention of the professor’s name. He gazed around and barked as if there was an intruder.
“I know you didn’t like him. But in all fairness, he didn’t get to spend any time with you. He’s really quite nice.” She checked her watch and said, “Never mind, it’s time for your afternoon walk. Don’t worry your cute little head about this. I’m sure we can’t do it anyway.”
#
Angie forced a pleasant greeting, when Vicki and Susie returned to the hotel. “Did you two buy out the town today?”
“Mom and I shopped at every artisan boutique in and around Knoxville,” Susie said as she collapsed on the sofa. “Remember, Mom loves to shop early for Christmas.”
“What a great place to find unusual gifts.” Vicki said.
“I wish I could be that disciplined.” Angie grumped. “My usual pattern is to shop late and often.”
Susie pulled herself up from the couch. “I’ve got to go. It’s exam time. Have a safe trip home.” She hugged her mom and bolted for the door.
Alone with Vicki, Angie continued to feel a chill in the silence. She stood and cleared her throat. “I’m tired tonight. If you don’t mind, I’ll call for room service and retire early.”
Vicki sighed. “We’re traveling for over ten hours in a small car tomorrow. You can’t avoid me forever. I thought we were past the awkward stage.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t feel comfortable talking about my dreams with you. You don’t seem to understand how much I want this time with the professor. Both you and Mister Tubbs seem to be against it. I know Jonathan won’t like the idea either. What am I supposed to do?”
Vicki’ placed her fists on each hip and stepped toward the couch where Angie sat. She raised her right hand into the air and stared. “As much as I hate to say it, you should follow your heart. Understand you may be on a fool’s path.”
“I guess I won’t know if it’s right until after I try. Please help me convince Jonathan.”
“No way. That’s outside of the job description for Friend. You’re on your own.”
#
The Knoxville travelers arrived at the brownstone a few minutes after seven the next evening. Angie gave Vicki a sisterly hug and said, “I had fun this week. It’s been an adventure.”
“Good luck. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow with all the gory details. See ya.”
With the carrier in one hand, the travel bag strap over her shoulder, and Mister Tubbs held tightly in her arms, Angie stumbled up the stairs to her front door. She hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy. She put the key into the lock and went in. Setting down her burdens, she looked for signs of Jonathan. The living room was covered in newspapers, Starbuck cups, and Wendy’s bags.
“Looks like your daddy did just fine while we were gone.”
Mister Tubbs struggled to get down out of her grasp and raced to the kitchen.
She wandered into the kitchen and fed Mister Tubbs. Once he was settled, she carried her luggage upstairs to the bedroom to unpack.
Why wasn’t he home? Either he was totally unconcerned, or very angry. Which Jonathan would walk through that door tonight?
Angie busied herself in the bedroom, trying to avoid the clock. At ten past 8 P.M., Mister Tubbs began to bark. She rubbed her temples as the front door opened. She held her breath as footsteps ascended the stairs and approached her bedroom door. The door flung open and a smiling Jonathan rushed in. He hurried over to her and said, “Baby, you’re home. Gee, how I’ve missed you. Tell me you missed me, too.”
Angie stepped back and put out her arms. “Let me catch my breath. Yes, I had a wonderful trip. And I’m glad to see you, too.”
Jonathon attempted to embrace her, but she balked and continued to hold him at arm’s length. “I’m sorry I worried you. But when I realized that you’d forgotten our anniversary and lied about it, I had to get away and think. Our marriage is in trouble. We nee
d to find some way to fix this, before we end up in divorce court.”
“Divorce?” He raised his arm and pointed his finger toward her. “We may have problems, but they’re small.” He grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t make this bigger than it is. I forgot. I didn’t really lie. I let you believe I hadn’t forgotten. Can’t you see the difference?”
Angie pulled away. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. We need total honesty between us. Omissions are the same as lies.”
Jonathan slumped on the edge of the bed. “How can I be honest when all you do is get upset? If I let you believe what you want, you seem to be a lot happier.”
“Not if it’s a lie.”
“What do you want from me? I work hard to give you all the best things in life. I get busy and forget one anniversary. So what? I’m a monster?”
“Listen to me. I love you and want to make this work. But I’m lonely and empty inside.” Tears moistened her cheeks. “I have no career, no children, and more often than not you are gone. What kind of life is that?”
“It’s a good life. My dad gave my mom everything her heart desired. They loved each other and had a great marriage until she died. What more do you want from me?”
Angie settled down into a wing chair by the fireplace. “I want to be valued. I want to have my own life. I want you to make me the most important person in your life.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows arched as he glared at her. “I can’t give you value or a career. What do you mean by having your own life? Leaving me?”
Shaking her head, Angie said, “No. I don’t want to leave you. And I know I’m the person responsible for my feeling of value and finding a career. But you have to loosen the reigns and let me try my wings.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“I met a professor of art at the University of Tennessee. He’s evaluated my artistic talent. He believes I could be an artist in my own stead. I miss painting. I’ve lost my touch. With his help that would change. I want this, Jonathan. I really want this.”
“And?”
“It would require a couple of months of intensive lessons.”
“And?”
“And the lessons would be given in Knoxville.”
Jonathan jumped up from the bed. “What? You and some professor alone for two months? No way!”
“It’s a chance of a life time. Professional lessons, not a rendezvous.”
“Over my dead body. I’m not sending you off to be with another man. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to have you gone?” He stomped around the room. “No warm dinner when I got home. No one here to talk with.” He pointed toward the closet, “All my favorite shirts were at the cleaners. I had to go pick them up. I’ve been miserable.”
Angie picked up a book from the side table and flung it onto the floor, “Listen to you. You only think of how you’re inconvenienced. What about me? I need a life, too. And with or without your consent, I’m going to have it. It’s your choice. I go with your support, or I go without it. Think it over. I’m fed up. Now get out. I want to be alone.”
“Fine. Be alone. I hope you like it. If you want to see me, I’ll be at the Carlton.” Jonathan slammed the bedroom door as he left.
Chapter 18
Jonathan arrived at the hotel by cab. He tossed a twenty-dollar bill at the cabbie and jumped out. As he passed the smiling doorman, he grumped a deep “Hello, Chuck.” He approached the front desk, slammed down his open hand on the counter, and said,” I need a room for tonight.”
The desk clerk raised his head and said, “Good evening. Mister Rhodes. We have a suite on the penthouse floor. The one you normally stay in is not available, but the accommodation is very nice. Will that be all right?”
Jonathan leaned over closer to the man and slowly pronounced his words. “Tonight, anything will do. When my regular room opens up, you will move me. Right?”
“Certainly. Here’s your key. Enjoy your stay.”
Jonathan snatched up the key and headed for the elevator.
The following day, he rose early and arrived at work before 7. He grabbed a clean dress shirt from his desk drawer and went into his private bathroom to shower, shave, and dress.
He settled in at his desk by quarter to 8 and heard Gina in the reception area chatting with another employee. Then Gina peeked in the open door and greeted him. He grunted a weak response and returned to his morning paper. She entered the office as if searching for landmines in the floor. Standing in front of his desk, she waited. He raised his head. “Yes?”
“Did Angie make it home, Boss?”
“Oh, yes. She’s home but not for long.”
Gina swallowed. “I don’t understand. Is she going on a trip or moving out?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I tried talking to her but she makes no sense.”
“Sometimes we women talk in code. What exactly did she say? Maybe I can decode for you.”
He pushed back the desk chair and said, “She’s met a man, some professor of art in Knoxville. She wants to spend two months with him. Supposedly, they would work on her watercolors. It’s a crock. Who does she think I am? Mister Stupid?”
Silence greeted him.
“I nearly went insane with her gone for one long week. How does she expect me to function without her for several months? What if she doesn’t come back at all?”
Gina lowered herself into one of the two chairs in front of the desk. “Boss, this may not be as serious as you think. Angie loves you. She may need some space to figure out how to live with a successful attorney and still have a meaningful life of her own. Wasn’t she working on becoming a professional artist when you two met?”
“I’m sick of all this talk about finding herself. She has important things to do as my wife. If she wants to paint, fine. But not in Knoxville.”
Gina leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk. “I’m way out of my league here, but it looks as if you need some professional help. A marriage counselor could work with the two of you. You love her, right?”
Jonathan pushed back his chair and walked to the window. He studied the skyline as a tear crept down his cheek. “Yes, I love her, and I don’t want to lose her.”
Gina quietly stood, walked over to him, and gently touched his hand. “Lots of folks have problems. Most are fixable with a little effort on both sides. If you want, I’ll call around discretely and find a referral for a good marriage therapist.”
Jonathan stood frozen at the window. “Thanks.”
She left and closed his office door behind her.
Once Gina was gone, Jonathan poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa along the right side wall of his office. How had his life become so messed up? Had he spent too much time on his career and not enough on his marriage? Angie had never said anything before, not really. Oh, she sometimes complained about his hours and his evening’s downtown. But she never pursued her complaints. Her concerns came and went like spring showers. How could he have known she was unhappy? Now what?
What had his tennis friend, Joe, said about a slippery slope? Maybe he should call him. Jonathan returned to his desk, picked up his phone, and punched in Joe’s phone number. After a third ring, Joe picked up. Jonathan panicked and hung up. What had he just done?
The office phone rang. Oh great, Joe had called back.
“Hey, buddy. Did you call?”
“Yes, sorry, I got interrupted. This is Jonathan.”
“I know. Caller I.D. works great these days. What’s up?”
Jonathan pushed back his desk chair and crossed his legs. “I think you were right about Angie. She’s really upset with me.”
“What happened?”
“She got back from Knoxville and announced that she wanted to spend a couple of months taking intensive watercolor classes with some professor she met there. I lost it. We had an argument. I left angry and spent the night at the Carlton.”
Jonathan heard
Joe let out a deep long breath. “Bad sign my friend. First, she goes away for a week, and then she comes back wanting time away. She went with a friend, right?”
“Yeah, her best friend.”
“Well, chances are nothing’s happened yet. I could be wrong, but you should get to the bottom of her unplanned departure.”
Jonathan shoved the wayward hair off his forehead. “How?”
“Not by staying at the Carlton. Get yourself home. Listen to what she has to say and stop being a hot head. Yelling and storming out never fixed any relationship. I know, because that was my mode of operation. It’s not effective.”
Jonathan uncrossed his legs. “And if she still wants to go?”
“Then you man up and let her go. Plan on visiting, calling, emailing, anything you can do to show your love and support. If she feels your love, she won’t need anyone else’s.”
“Thanks, Joe. I’m headed home now. Wish me luck. I think I’m going to need it.”
“Keep in touch. Remember, I’m here for you. It’s possible to fix this, but you need to listen to what she has to say.”
“Right. Gotcha.”
Jonathan slammed down the phone and ran out the door. As he passed Gina’s desk he called out, “I’m going home to try to fix my marriage. Text the name and number of the marriage counselor to me when you have it. And tell the big guy I’ll be working from home. He can find me there.”
“Good idea, Boss. Remember to stay calm.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Chapter 19
Jonathon’s chest tightened as he entered the hallway. Mister Tubbs barked loudly. Thank God, she’s still here. Would she give him a second chance? She’d been so unpredictable lately. He’d heard of women going through the change being unreasonable. But she was entirely too young to start that nonsense. He hardly recognized her these days. He thought back to his youth. Had his mother been so irrational? No, he was sure of it. He wanted to save his marriage. He had to follow Joe’s advice. Stay calm, listen, and keep an open mind.
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