by C. Fonseca
Rachel circled Caitlin’s waist with her arms. “I heard about your promotion. It’s an unexpected pleasure to see you here tonight. Congratulations are in order.”
“News travels fast.” Caitlin took a step backwards out of Rachel’s grasp as she clarified, “Possible promotion. You should know better, counsellor. Supposition only.”
“Touché.” Rachel laughed and flicked the fringe of her stylishly cut brown hair from her face. She leaned closer. “It is excellent to see you back again. I must say, Australia agrees with you.” She examined Caitlin from head to toe. “Though, you must be relieved to be coming home.” She smirked. “Can’t be much Down Under to challenge you as an art historian?”
“On the contrary. It has been most inspiring. The art and cultural scene in Melbourne is vibrant, very much alive. It’s an exciting place to live and work. I’ve learned so much about Australia’s art movements from Isabella. I’m only just beginning to learn about indigenous art.”
“Surely it can’t compete with the richness and history of European art?” Rachel waved her glass of champagne in front of Caitlin to emphasise her point.
“What about Sidney Nolan, Namatjira, Albert Tucker? Just to name a few. As far as international recognition, surely you’ve heard about the contemporary Aboriginal artist, Lena Nyadbi? Her work is painted on the rooftop of the Musée du quai Branly, in Paris. Not only does Australia have one of the most exciting art cultures now, there is also evidence of aboriginal art that dates back at least thirty thousand years.”
Rachel bowed her head and grinned sheepishly. “Wow, you’ve presented a very strong defence. Hmm, and there’s something different about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” She tilted her head and tapped her index finger on her chin. “You’re more relaxed, and I’d say you’ve got that just—”
“There you are, darling.” A beautiful, mocha-skinned woman put her arm around Rachel’s shoulder and held on.
Caitlin breathed a sigh of relief. Saved.
“Hi, Selina.” Rachel placed her hand possessively on Selina’s forearm. “Caitlin, this is Selina Davis from Washington. She is currently working at UCC as a sessional lecturer in classics and archaeology.”
Caitlin accepted Selina’s delicate outstretched hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” That explained why Rachel was here tonight.
Selina’s gaze travelled from Caitlin to Rachel and back again, curiously. She was striking, with glossy, black hair swept back with a silver clip. Her body curved into Rachel’s side, a perfect fit.
“Do you work at UCC? I haven’t had the good fortune of seeing you around here,” Selina said.
“She’s been in Melbourne, on sabbatical, but Caitlin’s a UCC girl from way back. She’s flown in to present for her Academic Promotions to Associate Professor.”
“Ahh,” Selina acknowledged. “Congratulations, Caitlin. Which department?”
“Arts.” Caitlin smiled. They would be in the same department. “Actually, I work in the College of Arts, Celtic Studies, and Social Sciences.”
“Okay. We should run into each other, then.”
“We may indeed,” Caitlin said.
Rachel shifted from one foot to the other in the restless way Caitlin recognised. She looked self-assured and sleek in a tailored, grey power suit, but she still loved to be the centre of attention.
Caitlin promised Rachel she’d try harder to keep in touch. They hugged briefly and made their polite goodbyes before Caitlin wound her way back to her table.
“Here you are. I thought you’d been kidnapped.” Kiera indicated towards the bar. “I couldn’t help notice you talking to Rachel. How’d you go, then?”
“Actually, okay,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “God, it seems like a lifetime since we were together.”
“Is it hard to see her?” Kiera tilted her head. “With her new girlfriend?”
“No, not at all. I’m very glad. She seems happy. It’s not entirely a surprise. Ma ran into her last month, and she mentioned that Rachel was seeing someone.” Although, she hadn’t divulged that Rachel’s new girlfriend and Caitlin shared similar academic backgrounds.
Kiera placed her hand on Caitlin’s forearm. “Speaking of girlfriends, how’s Andi after the surfing accident? She’s a wild one, isn’t she?”
“Ah, that she is,” Caitlin said. “She’s on the mend, luckily. She has heaps to do before her exhibition opens.”
“And you’re not there to hold her hand.”
Caitlin shook her head. “She doesn’t need me to hold her hand.”
“But surely Andi’s worried about the impending interview and what it means for the two of you?”
Suddenly, a heavy hand rested on Caitlin’s shoulder.
“Lass, how’s it feel to be back in civilisation?” A bushy, grey-bearded giant descended upon her and stooped low to kiss her cheek.
“Bobby, you brute. Take it easy on Caitlin,” Kiera growled at the Scotsman who was clad in a tartan kilt. “You’ll give her beard rash.”
“Grrr…bollocks.” He grinned and parked himself down on the bench beside Caitlin. “Seriously, Caitlin, it is good to see you. When do you start back here?”
Caitlin shook her head and smiled at Robert Murdock, the Scottish art history professor.
“I’m just visiting, Bobby.” She glanced at his hairy knees. “Love the skirt.”
He chuckled. “What’re you complaining about? At least I’ve got the legs for it. Anyway, I heard about your advancement. It’ll be a walk in the park, Caitlin. You so deserve this.”
It was incredible to see everyone again, but the attention, constant questions, and assumptions were truly exhausting. The walls were closing in on her.
Kiera tapped her on the leg. As if reading her mind, she said, “I don’t know about you, Caitlin, but I’m ready to flee this coop. I promised Emma that we’d meet her at Loafers. Let’s get there and have a few. Then you can tell me what’s really going on. Are you up for it? It is your first full day back home, and you’re probably jet-lagged.”
“No. I mean yes, I’d like that. Lead on.” Caitlin gathered her jacket and purse and followed Kiera towards the exit.
As they left the building, Caitlin put her arm through Kiera’s. “Thanks, pal.”
“What for?” Kiera asked.
“Getting us out of there.”
Kiera chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet, darling. After a few more drinks, we’ll have you dancing on the tables and singing karaoke. And let’s not forget, you haven’t answered my question.”
CHAPTER 34
Astronomical twilight was surreal, the time when most of the warm colours in the sky faded, to be replaced by cool purples and deeper blues. Andi walked along her beach at twilight. Pale oranges and pinks still touched the clouds, and the rocky outcrops were silhouetted against the ambient sky. The glow of the setting sun had dimmed, and a faint band of zodiacal light stretched up from the horizon, illuminating the sky.
Uncertain of what lay ahead, Andi was pensive, but she couldn’t be sad. The sky was flecked with striking silvery-white clouds, and the first of the visible stars sparkled. It was tranquil, calming, and beautiful. The deep rock pools at the edge of the sand rippled with the tremor of the incoming tide. Andi crouched down beside a pool fringed with seaweed. Mesmerised by the colours—turquoise, ultramarine, and the intense blue and green—she moved her fingers through the glistening seawater.
It was early morning in Ireland, the day of Caitlin’s interview. Even though it was hard to imagine that Caitlin wouldn’t be totally prepared, Andi thought she’d detected the hint of nervousness in Caitlin’s voice when they’d spoken an hour ago.
While Caitlin talked, Andi had closed her eyes, enjoying the cadence, the rhythmical flow of her lilting Irish accent. Her voice was like the soothing sounds of the approaching waves, gently lapping at the edges of the dark sand.
* * *
In her studio, Andi stood before her canvas with single-mindedness and
pure determination. Passion flowed through her veins. She worked quickly to harness that intensity, and used her brushes and paints to communicate the fervour, yearning, and hope that was transforming her life. More than anything, she wanted to express her love through this painting. She hadn’t been able to say the words out loud but couldn’t stop her emotions from pouring onto the canvas. Like one of her favourite artists, Georgia O’Keeffe, she’d found she could say things with colour and shape that she could not express in words.
Andi held the tiny container of ground pigment, the precious material that she’d picked up in Lorne three months earlier. The natural lapis lazuli had a historic importance for its jewel-like brilliance and had been used by many artists over time for its intensity and lightfast properties.
Andi had purchased lapis lazuli pigment from a reliable supplier, who promised that it was a very high grade. It would be quickly absorbed into the paint medium and enhance the brushstrokes, adding a luminosity and radiance to her painting. She hoped he was right.
Brilliance was the final painting in the series, and the most significant. With this piece completed, she would have to turn her attention to the business part of preparing for the exhibition. She wasn’t looking forward to that stage.
She loaded the brush with paint and worked the bristles from side to side in a gliding motion. She mixed in a touch of white so the colour maintained its radiant purity and chromatic strength, even in the dark shades. Andi combined the pure lapis pigment with deep-blue paint, applying it smoothly to the canvas. She was back there, on the beach at twilight, immersed in the pool of seawater and its intense colour and energy.
This painting was for Caitlin. A reflection of her brilliance, her sparkle, and the light she’d brought into Andi’s life.
* * *
When Andi’s phone rang, she’d immediately thought of Caitlin, but quickly dismissed the idea; it would be two in the morning in Ireland. Instead, she was surprised to hear from Caitlin’s assistant.
“Hi, Andi. This is Kim Jones. I met you at Caitie’s office in Kew a while back.”
“Hi, Kim. Of course, I remember you.”
“So, you’re probably wondering why I’m calling? I hope I haven’t got you at the wrong time?” Kim asked.
“It’s all good. You’re a pleasant distraction. I’m sitting at my desk, thinking about all the things I have to do this week, and I don’t know where to start.”
Kim chuckled. “Ah-ha, I am ringing at the right time. With Caitlin away, Isabella and I decided that you may need some help.” She paused. “Now, I can come down with the work van any day this week and help you transport the paintings to the Watershed. What day would suit you, Andi?”
“I was going to hire a van, Kim. How did you even know?”
“Well, a little Irish birdie whispered to me that you might need help in this particular area.”
“Little birdie?” Andi smiled to herself.
“That’s right, she did. Is there anything else you’d like me to do, because I’m yours for an entire day.”
The friendly, flirtatious sound in Kim’s voice made Andi grin. “Thank you, that’s so kind of you to offer. All the paintings are ready. The smaller works are back from the framers, and Anthony Broadhurst has arranged to receive the entire collection early this week.” Andi had a sudden thought. “While you’re here, it would be great if you could check the hanging fixtures on a couple of the heavier paintings. I’m just not sure if they are adequate.”
Andi was relieved. Isabella and Kim’s offer was most generous, and with it, some of her tension eased.
“Oh, very good point,” Kim agreed. “We can’t have them falling off the wall, can we? I’ll make sure my toolbox is in the van. How about this Tuesday morning? I can be at yours by nine thirty?”
Andi glanced at her calendar. “That would be fantastic. I will need to double-check with Anthony, but if I get the go-ahead, I’ll text you.”
“I’m writing it in my diary right this very minute. I’ll make a note to toss two painting crates into the van, then we’ll be sure to get those precious paintings of yours to the gallery, safe and sound.”
“Okay, wonderful. Let me send you the directions. Thank you so much, Kim. I’ll make sure I have coffee and breakfast ready for you when you arrive.”
“I’d never say no to coffee, but don’t trouble over the food. Sharon never lets me leave the house without eating breakfast.”
“Okay, coffee it is.”
“We’re missing our Caitie and her Irish ways here. She’s a bright spark in our day.” Kim gave a discreet cough. “Although, I am getting some work done for a change—without the distraction.”
“Distraction?”
Kim sounded amused. “Oh, she’s a hell of a distraction, as you’d know, Andi. I caught her up a ladder the other day—”
“What, is she not allowed to climb a ladder?” Andi asked.
“Ah, not if it’s to steal my toolbox.”
They continued their playful exchange. Andi now understood a little more of the camaraderie that Caitlin and Kim so obviously shared.
* * *
Caitlin climbed the cherry wood staircase and placed her suitcase on the luggage bench. She was delighted that Mrs O’Brien had already turned down the bed and prepared the room for Caitlin’s overnight stay. Downstairs, the antique wood stove was alight, and the house was toasty warm. A fresh loaf of soda bread, a platter of cheese, and a bowl of fruit sat on the kitchen bench near a small blue vase of wildflowers.
The 1890’s white-painted, stone-faced house, set in tranquil woodland, overlooked the dramatic coastline, with a gently sloped, sandy beach a short walk away. The house was a mere fifteen minutes drive from the town. Kinsale was a mecca for sailing and water sports during the summer months.
Caitlin planned to avoid Kinsale’s galleries, craft shops, and restaurants on this visit. She looked forward to some quiet solitude to process everything that had happened over the last few months.
A light sea mist was moving into shore. Caitlin reached for her Cotswold coat and pulled it on over her grey turtleneck jumper and wool trousers. The coat’s heavy lining and hood would keep her dry as she walked the rolling green hills behind the property.
The letter arrived yesterday, by special delivery, to her parents’ home. Caitlin read and re-read the few lines that had the power to make her dreams come true and, depending on her decision, change her life forever.
It is with pleasure that we confirm, Doctor Caitlin Isabella Quinn… the tenured faculty position, Associate Professor of Art History…
Caitlin clambered down to the shore and surveyed the sheltered cove, bordered by a curved, pink granite rockshelf. The sea shimmered in the last of the evening light, the closing of the day in Kinsale—the beginning of Andi’s day in Hakea. So true, that day and night meet transiently at twilight and dawn. Caitlin felt connected to Andi, even though they were thousands of physical miles apart. She imagined standing in this spot with her.
As a child, Caitlin had explored secret caves that were exposed by low tides. She’d swum in the icy blue water, collected seashells, and searched for treasures in the rockpools. This was a magical place, and sharing it with the woman she loved would be perfect. Someday.
Caitlin reached into her trouser pocket for the folded piece of paper—Andi’s email. Although she had read it earlier, now in this enchanted place, she allowed herself to re-read the last part of the email that had moved her to tears.
Through colour and brushstroke, I paint the emotions that lie within my heart. Paint is the sensuous medium I use to craft your elements—luscious, extravagant, unpretentious, delicate, and tender. Your emotional depth applied in fervent marks. Gestures made to the rhythms of the earth, the ocean tide, patterns in the sand, and rays of light.
My passion is a soft sable brush dipped in rich crimson. I celebrate surface texture, flirt with hues, and explore your beauty in vibrant, cascading washes.
I am sedu
ced into your landscape through the layers of ethereal hues and explosions of colour. Dazzled by your brilliance. Andi XX.
The beauty of Andi’s prose astonished Caitlin. She realised that even though those three words were not put in black and white, it was clear that this was her declaration of love. A strong gust of wind threatened to tear the piece of paper from her hands, and Caitlin held on firmly. She replaced the note safely into her pocket and headed back towards the house—her fingers wrapped tightly around the page.
CHAPTER 35
It was a balmy summer evening, and the cafés, restaurants, and bars around the Watershed Gallery buzzed with activity. Andi paced the terrace overlooking Corio Bay, with yachts, fishing boats, and cruisers bobbing around in the calm water. Her palms were clammy. She glanced at her watch for the hundredth time.
Although everything was as ready as it could be, it didn’t stop the churning in her stomach. Kim had been absolutely fantastic, helping her transport the paintings. She’d been a huge morale booster, her encouragement and cheerfulness giving Andi a much-needed shot of confidence.
Anthony’s staff worked tirelessly, and in two days, they’d installed the exhibition, fixed the labels, and finalised the lighting. The catalogues were amazing, thanks to Bailey Graphics.
The Watershed’s catering staff stood at attention, ready to greet the guests.
Luc had arrived at the studio in the early afternoon and insisted on driving Andi to the gallery.
“Crikey,” he’d exclaimed when he saw the billboard above the entrance. He read aloud,
“Where The Light Plays—A Solo Exhibition by Andréa Rey, December 13-January 23.”
Luc placed his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so happy for you, Sis. This is absolutely awesome. We are all so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Luc.”
Although her work had been part of group shows before, this was Andi’s first solo exhibition, and she’d worked damn hard to make it possible.
“Here, darling. Maybe this will help.” Anthony’s partner, Todd, placed a champagne flute in Andi’s hand. “Liquid courage,” he grinned. “How are you doing?”
