I push up off the ground, the canvas tumbling to the gravel as I pace back and forth, taking in big gulps of air to try and calm myself down. My head swirls with conflicting emotions, overwhelming me to the point that I’m hyperventilating.
I can’t go back in time, what was I thinking by coming here?
My body sags as I come to a stop, completely exhausted. I decide to climb into the back of my car and lie down with an old sweater tucked under my head. I’ll rest my eyes for a few minutes before I head home and put all of this behind me once and for all.
I wake up with an ache in my neck and a dry, raw throat from all my crying. I climb out of the car so I can stretch my sore muscles out, my gaze traveling over the landscape. In the morning light, the scene in front of me provides me with a different perspective than the one I’d painted last night.
I bend my knees and pick up the canvas, sighing at the gloomy scene I’ve depicted. It looks nothing like the bright, softer paintings I normally create, and I can’t leave here without showing the true beauty of this place. It makes me feel angry being here, but I can’t deny that it’s beautiful. And even with last night’s emotions still swirling around in my head, I feel like I need to do this to calm the storm raging within.
I collect the paintbrushes that are strewn across the ground before pulling out a bottle of water from the car, cleaning the brushes off and wetting my parched throat.
I sit down in the same place that I did last night and pull a blank canvas onto my partly raised legs, sighing in contentment as I find the colors I want to use and touch the bristle of the brush to the surface for the first time.
Looking up and breathing in the early morning air, the gentle sway of the willow tree’s branches catches my attention, making me see how truly beautiful it is here. The oranges and pinks of the sunrise mixed with the lush green grass makes for a stunning palette. My hair falls in my face and I sweep it over one shoulder, feeling the calm of a new day wash over me.
The morning has opened up my perspective on the situation with Gerry. I know that I never treated him with anything less than the love and support that a wife should show their husband, and I need to remember that. I let my emotions get the better of me last night, I let him weave his way into my psyche again, making me feel like I wasn’t good enough, making me second guess myself. I won’t do that again.
Happiness is fleeting, I should know this more than anyone. When times are dark and I feel like I’m drowning, I know that happy times will always come around again soon. I need to wait things out and get this divorce over and done with.
Gazing at the looming willow tree in front of me, the notion that this place of all places has given me the courage to try and move forward with my new start in a positive way, makes me laugh. It was once a place I associated with deep rooted pain. It still hurts, but I think I can manage it and move on with my life. Instead of locking it up, I need to let myself feel so I don’t get so overwhelmed again.
I don’t stay long after I’ve finished the painting, I don’t need to sit and reminisce any more than I already have, so I pile everything into the back of my car and drive back to Mom’s, feeling content with my new outlook.
I park a few houses down, not able to go inside the house. I watch the door, trying to muster up the courage to go and have an adult conversation with her about where I’ve been, she’s bound to have been worried.
Deciding I’m being stupid because my mom has never judged me before, I drive the short way to the driveway and park, hesitating briefly before walking up to the crimson door. The smell of coffee invades my senses as I walk into the hallway and I follow it into the kitchen, seeing Mom at the table reading a book. She looks up from the pages and gives me a sad smile as I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit next to her.
“Where were you last night?” she eventually asks, but not in a pushy way, in a concerned mom way.
“I needed to clear my head.”
She nods slowly before tucking a bookmark into the book she’s reading and closing it. “I was worried when you didn’t come back. I thought…”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Seeing the worry in her eyes makes me feel awful for not calling her. I should have at least let her know where I was.
She sighs and a real smile graces her face. “As long as you’re okay?”
“I feel much better,” I reply, smiling back.
“I’m glad to hear that, you don’t look great though. Go and get showered, I’ll make you some breakfast before I go to the hospital.”
“Hospital?”
“The babies,” she says in way of explanation.
“Oh, yeah. The babies,” I mumble.
“You could come with me, you know? They’re always looking for volunteers.” I shake my head emphatically, she knows I can’t do that. “Harm, I know you and Gerry—”
“No.” I stand up, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll be back down soon.”
I walk out of the kitchen before she has a chance to reply, I don’t want to get into that conversation when my emotions are still so fragile. I feel like a china plate, teetering on the edge of a table, waiting to crash to the floor and shatter.
Jasmine Thompson—Pompeii
Nickelback—How You Remind Me
Parachute—The Mess I Made
I stand on the front porch with Clay and Izzie by my side, waiting for Edward to turn up. Lifting my arm, I look down at my watch and see that he’s now ten minutes late. It’s so unlike him, he’s never been late in the thirty years that I’ve known him. He’s a stickler for timekeeping and prides himself on always being able to get you where you need to be right on time. If I’m honest, I’m starting to worry about him.
I look down at Clay and Izzie, giving them a reassuring smile before reaching into my pocket and pulling my cell out, about to call him when the sound of car tires crunching gravel catches my attention. I look up as the car comes to a stop in front of the fountain in the driveway.
Edward jumps out and apologizes profusely. I scan him, my eyes narrowed as I take in his appearance: his shirt is half untucked, his tie isn’t knotted properly, and the laces on his black shoes are undone.
I’ve never seen him this… frazzled and unruly.
He looks like he woke up late and dressed on his way here. What I can’t understand is why it’s taken him so long, he only lives a couple of minutes away.
I shake my head, deciding not to say anything, yet. I don’t want to acknowledge it in front of the kids, deciding to wait until we’ve dropped them off at school.
Although Izzie’s giggle and voice telling him, “Daddy helps me get dressed, maybe you need Daddy to help you too?” all with a completely serious look on her face, has us all bursting out into laughter, breaking the tension rolling off of him.
Once we’re all in the car and on our way to their school, his eyes flick to me and back to the road continuously all the way.
I get out with the kids when we pull up to the school entrance, making sure they get inside safely before I make my way back to the car and a nervous Edward.
I let out a long breath when I slide into the back, not wanting to reprimand him. Edward is like family, I hate to call him an employee because he’s so much more than that—he always has been.
“I’m so sorry I made them late,” he gasps. “I overslept and then I had to get all the way from the other side of the city and—”
“Wait.” My head reels back as I hold my hand up to stop his rambling as I frown. “Why were you all the way over the other side of the city?”
His face goes beet red and he can’t quite look at me as he pulls away from the school, starting to drive us into the city. “I… I…”
“Edward,” I warn, my patience starting to wear thin. “Spit it the hell out.”
He clears his throat and stops at a red light, his hands gripping onto the steering wheel tighter as he stumbles on his words, finally coming out with, “I don’t think it’s my place to say.�
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My brows draw down as I narrow my eyes even further at him. Then it clicks, the way he’s been acting around her; staying all the way over in the city.
Dammit. I knew something was going to happen between them. Ever since that night at Mom’s for dinner, I could feel it in the air, I could see it happening right in front of my eyes.
I know that they’ve known each other for more years than I’ve been alive, but never did I think that they’d be… doing whatever the hell they’ve been doing.
Great—now I have those images in my head. Images that I do not want there.
“You and Mom, huh?” I ask, knowing that I’m spot on when he turns away and doesn’t answer.
I really don’t know how to feel about this; on the one hand Edward has been like a father to me all of my life, but on the other hand, it’s going to get weird, him being my driver and my mother's… boyfriend.
“I know that you’re my boss,” he starts, pulling up to the sidewalk outside my office building that he’s made it to in record-breaking time. “But if you’re not comfortable with it…”
He leaves that hanging in the air and I look him dead in the eyes, trying to decipher how he really feels. I can see something there that I could see years ago... happiness. Something that hasn’t been there for a very long time, and when I think back, the only time that he had that look was when he was talking to Mom or taking her somewhere.
Had I missed it all these years? Had something been going on all this time?
“How long?” My voice comes out gruff as I start to see them both in a very different light.
“Huh?”
“How long, Edward?” I lean forward, narrowing my eyes at him, silently warning him not to lie to me.
He pushes his pointer finger in between his neck and his collar, pulling at it and visibly swallowing. “A couple of weeks.”
My brows rise on my forehead at his admission. “That’s it? Not when I was a kid?”
“What?” He practically shouts. “I’m a professional, Tristan, you know this. I would never have done anything with your mother while she was still married to your father. I wouldn’t have done that to you or her, no matter how much I loved her.”
His admission has me speechless and I don’t know what to say so I lean back in my seat, staring out of the window and up at the office building where I know someone is waiting for me to have a meeting. “You’ve loved her all this time?” I ask quietly.
“I…” He lets out a breath, his body deflating. “Yeah.”
I nod slowly, trying to take it all in and then turn to face him, putting my hand on the door handle and pulling at it to open the door. “You hurt her,” I warn. “And I’ll hurt you; are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
I nod once and step out of the car, doing my jacket button up and rolling my shoulders back. Time to run my business and get those goddamn images out of my head.
“So, everything is done?”
“Preliminarily? Yes. Legally? Not yet, but it shouldn’t be too much longer until you’re a free woman,” Nate says. “He agreed to everything, you’ll get your half of the savings, like agreed. He also has specifically stated he wants nothing to do with your studio so your worries are unfounded there, he has no intention of trying to get half of your profits.”
A sigh of relief releases from between my lips and I lean back in the leather chair with a smile on my face. The divorce is nearly over. “You don’t know how much of a relief this is, my studio is all I have.”
He nods and clears his throat. “It’s been a straightforward process, I almost feel bad for taking your money.” He winks at me and I laugh.
“Not too bad though, huh?” He chuckles and stands as I do, that same look on his face like he wants to say something. I huff, “What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks, I hope I can make it back in time for my first session of the day. Traffic was a nightmare getting into the city this morning.”
“Well, we won’t need to see each other after today. You’ll receive the divorce certificate through the mail when it’s nulled and you’ll officially be a Jameson again.”
I stop before the front door to the law firm and turn toward him. “Seriously, Nathan, thank you so much for this and for fitting me in on a Saturday.”
“It’s my job,” he replies, shrugging.
“I know that, but I also know that you tried to speed things up and fit me in because of who I am.”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I narrow my eyes at him and he chuckles. “I… Alright, you caught me. I had to do whatever I could, for old times’ sake. It’s been nice to see you again, and you look a lot happier now.”
“I think I am.” I smile at my statement; I think I finally am.
“That’s great to hear.” He pauses for a second. “I need to get to a meeting, but if you ever need anything, you let me know.” I tense as he gives me a quick hug and clears his throat.
“Thanks, you too. Take care, Nate.”
He returns the sentiment and turns on his heels, leaving me to walk out of the building and to my car.
When I get to the studio, Mom’s already here, setting up for the session. I can’t help but grin at the questioning look on her face. She beams back at me, knowing what I’m saying without having to speak and pulls me in for a hug.
“So, that’s it?” she asks as we wait for the kids to start arriving.
“Pretty much, I need my certificate for it to be official, but it’s finally nearing the end.”
She claps her hands excitedly and I raise my brow in a sarcastic expression. “Oh, stop. I’m excited for you to be moving on, that’s all. Anyway, enough of that talk, we have lots to do.” She motions to all of the paintings and sculptures on the tables. “What’s happening with all of this?”
“I know a few have some final details to add to their big pieces, so we’ll find out who they are and I can stay with them if you don’t mind taking the rest and getting them to hang up their artwork in the back?”
“Sure, do you want to show me how you want it?”
We walk into the large back room and I place pedestals in the four corners. “If you can place two in the middle and two as you walk in, that’ll be perfect for the sculptures. And…” I spin around in a circle, pointing at the far wall. “If we have the big pieces here, I’ll Velcro the curtain up later, ready for the big reveal. Leave the placement of the other paintings up to the kids, it’s their artwork after all.”
She nods and I grin at her, starting to feel the flutter of excitement coursing through me. Today is going to be a good day.
The bell dings in the front and we walk through, welcoming the excited chatter of the kids we’ve been teaching every Saturday morning for the last six weeks, it may not feel long to some, but to me, watching them pour out their imagination and emotions makes me feel like I’ve known them for so much longer.
“Miss J!” Izzie cries as she bounds through the doors.
“Hey, sweetie, you ready to finish your painting for gallery night?”
“Mmhmm,” she mumbles, already walking over to it. Clay joins her and I watch as he helps her up onto the high stool while he stands, handing her a paintbrush.
I turn toward the other kids. “Right, everyone that has finished their pieces, go with Tilly. The ones who still need to do some work on theirs, you’re with me.”
Most shuffle off toward the back of the room with excited chatter, but three stay behind, already pulling out their pieces and getting to work on them.
“Finished!” Izzie calls from across the room as I help a student wash up their paintbrushes.
“Awesome, call Tilly through and she’ll help you guys get it on the drying rack outside since it’s a nice day today. It’ll dry quicker out there so we can get it up on the wall before tonight.”
Izzie skips through to the back but I notice Clayton staring down at the painting in front o
f him, a frown marring his face, so I walk over there.
“Hey, buddy.” I look down at the sheet of paper with him. “I love it all, especially this guy here.”
“That’s Edward, he’s one of Izzie’s favorite people.”
I smile. “Awesome, and who’s this?” I ask, pointing to an older looking lady shown by the wrinkles on her forehead.
“That’s my nana, she’s coming tonight. And that’s Amelia, she looks after us sometimes,” he says, pointing to the painting of a small woman with blonde hair and brown eyes.
“And this is your dad?” I move my finger over to the painting of a man in a suit. He nods and smiles at me. “And is he coming tonight?”
“Yeah,” he answers me, frowning.
I slide onto the stool that Izzie was sitting on so I’m eye level with him. “What’s wrong? Are you not excited about showing your family your sculptures? They’re really good, Clayton.”
“I... I am, I just...” He sighs. “I just wish that my mom could be here.”
Izzie bounces over with my mom and picks up a corner of the painting. “Do you like it, Miss J? Do you?”
“It’s very well painted, Izzie. Well done to you both,” I reply.
Mom gives me a questioning look and head tilt toward Clayton who has walked over to the beanbags; his head stuck in a book. I mouth, “Not now,” to her and she nods, helping Izzie carry her painting through to the back.
Walking over to Clayton, I’m halted in my tracks by three other students that run up to me, each wanting to pull me in a different direction to look at their pieces that have been set up. I desperately want to talk to him but decide he may need some space before I do, so I turn on my heels and walk toward the gallery set up in the back.
Before I know it, parents are arriving to pick up their kids and I’m left wondering if Clayton will be okay because I didn’t get to talk to him before he left. I have to put him out of my mind and get to work on everything else that needs to be done before tonight, otherwise it’ll never get finished.
Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1) Page 14
