The snow around the ring seemed to melt away in his mind as he remembered the autumn day, the tang in the air, the crispness of leaves under his feet. Who knew if the setting was even from the main memory, or if he had blended a second memory of the weather into the first? It may not have even been Kaya on that horse that day, but the preteen on the paper held enough similarities to her that it might well have been.
He turned to a new page, thought of the boy and started drawing him on the sorrel, his gangly arms and legs seemingly out of proportion with the rest of him as boys so often were at his age. Jonah didn’t draw him straight on, but at an oblique angle, his excitement showing from the way he held his arms and legs, the implied movement of the horse. It felt a little like joy.
When he finished a rough draft, he flipped the sheet and started on one of the girl in the wheelchair and the happiness that had suffused her face as she held out a treat for the goat. It nuzzled her hand and she grinned brightly, joy on her face. She was detailed, and the goat was moderately detailed, but the rest of the space, the straw, the wooden beams and windows were little more than shapes in the picture, lines shooting off in different directions, adding dimension and mood without being fully formed.
It felt good to create, to feel the dust of charcoal, the sharp edges of the rectangular stick pressing into the pads of his fingers. His hands ached to hold a brush and spread paint across the paper, to see the form emerging from his mind and heart as he created something more than either part of him could ever do alone.
He hurried down to the back room of the gallery where most of his art supplies had been stored in perfect order, so he could find whatever he needed, almost without lifting his eyes from the watercolor paper while he worked.
He grabbed a pencil, soft and fine pointed, sketching the girl in the barn, outlining the important areas, shaping the face, the tumble of hair pouring below her knobby winter scarf. He grabbed the eraser, kneading it to remove the bits of graphite that had gone astray, then continued his outline.
Slowly the image came to the surface, and, finally satisfied, he switched to his watercolor paint. A little wash of tan, barely there, blocked around his white areas, showing him where the color would be divided from it. He worked from light to dark, reveling in the freedom to form shapes with color.
And then he had to stop. The paper had to dry properly, and he needed to stand and stretch. The stool where he sat was the wrong height for painting at and he'd been hunched over as he worked. He would have to find something else.
Jonah hadn't known if he would ever paint again. After losing Janet in that car accident, he had tried to paint, but it was as though his inspiration had disappeared and he hadn't produced anything decent since. The few works he'd tried were technically proficient, but definitely not inspired.
He still didn't know if this one would be more than proficient or not, but he was pleased with the charcoal study. He jotted a note on a bright yellow sticky note to get a better chair to sit in while he painted and tacked it to his computer screen. He glanced at the clock and blinked twice when he realized it was after two in the morning. It had been so long— so long— since he'd felt like that, he had lost all track of time.
No wonder his back hurt and his eyes felt gritty.
Wishing he could get back to work on a different image, but knowing he had a lot to do the next day, he locked up and went upstairs to his apartment for the night. With any luck, he'd be able to sleep and the next day he would feel like finishing that painting.
For the first time in over a year, he had some hope that he would be more than just a gallery owner again.
A funky nightmare where horses blamed Kaya for the weather woke her nearly an hour earlier than usual on Friday. Unable to get back to sleep, she got ready for the day, prepped the animals, and milked slightly ahead of schedule. Finding herself with time on her hands before work, she went out for a leisurely breakfast at a nearby restaurant— an unusual but occasional splurge to jump-start her day.
Even after taking her time over the eggs and hash browns, she showed up at the gallery fifteen minutes early. There was a light on in the back room, so she knew Jonah was already working. She was starting to wonder if he ever slept. She knocked on the back door and waited, rubbing her hands over her heavily covered arms, her breath turning to clouds in the air. He came to the door and frowned slightly. “You're early.”
“I know. Sorry if I interrupted you on a call or something.” She had no idea who he would be calling at this time of day, but you never knew. He was showered, freshly shaved, and wore a nice green sweater that brought out flecks in his blue eyes.
He held the door for her, then pulled it tightly shut behind them. It stuck sometimes and didn't like to close properly.
When she took off her coat, she glanced in the storage room and saw his easel set up, a blue pool of cloth lay over the edge of the table. But most interesting was the paper on the easel. It faced away from her, but she felt drawn to it. She took a couple of steps into the room. “Is that a painting smock?” She pointed to the fabric.
Jonah confiscated it, hanging it in a long, open cupboard, and she noticed he had a couple dabs of paint on his right thumb in blue and yellow. He shook his head. “I hadn't expected you for a few more minutes so I haven't started to clean up.”
Kaya ignored him and walked around the easel to get a look at what he was doing. It wasn't finished, not nearly, but she could clearly see the outline of Shyanne feeding the goats. “Wow.”
“It's not much yet.” He set a nearby brush into the cup near the easel, and carried it with several other brushes over to the bathroom sink. “I sometimes take an hour or two in the morning to work on a painting before I get to work on the gallery. It helps calm my mind.” His tone was very matter of fact, but his demeanor said he was nervous about something, maybe having her see his unfinished work?
She'd heard some artists could be like that. “I understand that. If I'm anxious about a new student or meeting a new family, sometimes I go out to the barn early and give one or two of the horses a solid brushing, just talk to them or the goats and let their serenity calm me.”
He looked over and their gazes met, a feeling of pure understanding flowing between them. Something more, something strong, fluttered in her chest, undeniable. She glanced away, surprised that she could feel that way with him. He had been so standoffish to start with. Still was, sometimes. She wondered why.
Instead of dealing with it, she walked closer to the painting and studied it closer. There were no details on Shyanne's face, but Kaya could still sense the tilt of her chin. She couldn't wait to see the finished product. “This is really coming along. I've seen a couple of your other projects at Ora's. They're good. Very good. I'm surprised you don't paint full time.”
He kept his back to her as he washed out the brushes, though she wasn't sure if the extra washing was strictly necessary or if he stayed at the sink to keep his hands busy. “I did paint full time for a while. I loved it, but it's hard to make a living that way. With this I get the best of both worlds.” He never looked her in the eye and she wondered if he was hiding the truth, whatever it was.
She didn't feel like she knew him well enough to press the point, so she changed the subject and got to work.
JONAH WOKE UP EARLY the next morning, grabbed a coffee and leftover Danishes he'd bought next door at Fay's Café the previous evening and headed for his easel. It was Saturday, so Kaya had early clients. When he had spent an hour on the painting, he checked the clock and groaned. As much as he didn't want to leave his easel yet, he had an appointment to show Gram's house at ten, and was really hoping it would pan out this time. Though her spot had been approved at the assisted living facility, she was talking about moving home instead if the house didn't sell.
It would solve part of the financial issues, but the administrator of the assisted living facility said there were now three names behind hers on the waiting list, so if she didn't take the a
partment, it could easily be six months or more before her name came up on the list again.
Jonah added a touch of blue to the girl's eyes in his painting, and cleaned up the brushes. He tried not to get his hopes up about the house selling. He'd shown it so many times already, and couldn't imagine this one turning out much better.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled up at the house and saw a familiar blue van in the driveway. The driver's door opened and the woman emerged, coming around to greet him. “Hi, I'm Evelyn. We met next door at Kaya's didn't we? I didn't realize you owned this place.”
“Yes. I'm Jonah. I guess the horses and goats next door won't bother you, then?” He couldn't believe his luck on that end of things. Plus the girl was in a wheelchair. If they liked the house layout, this could be perfect for them.
Evelyn laughed, looking younger than he'd remembered from their brief chat in the farmyard earlier that week. “Proximity to the horses is actually one of the perks of this place. And the wheelchair lifts you mentioned on the information sheet are another perk.” She walked back to the van where her son had been helping her daughter onto the electronic lift that helped the wheelchair exit the van.
Shyanne— Kaya had mentioned her name when she saw the painting— looked up at him, happiness suffusing her face. “I really hope we can get your house. I love Kaya and her goats.”
“I hope you love the house as much as my grandmother does. Why don't you come on in?” He walked around the wheelchair ramp he'd built for his grandfather nearly a decade earlier and unlocked the front door.
They did love the house. Evelyn thought the kitchen, modest by many standards, though more spacious than some, was wonderful. Everything was wide enough for Shyanne to navigate, and the master bedroom, which had the wheelchair lift by the bed, wasn't much bigger than the second bedroom, which Evelyn would take instead.
“You have no idea what a blessing it is to find this house— not just because of the proximity to Kaya,” Evelyn said when they'd been through the whole place. “I need to check a few things to see if we can swing a mortgage, but I definitely want to make an offer if everything works out.”
“I would love to sell it to you.” Jonah said with a chuckle. “Not just because it would be great to get my gram settled into the assisted living center without worrying about a mortgage here. She loved this house. She and my grandpa built it and made wonderful memories. In so many ways, it's the home of her heart and I know she'll be happy knowing that you live here with your kids, loving it just as much as she did.” He really hoped it worked out for them. It was a perfect fit from every angle he could think of.
“What do you do for a living? Do you live around here?” Evelyn asked as they exited through the front door a few minutes later.
Jonah locked the house up behind him. “I'm opening a gallery downtown this week.” He glanced at Shyanne and made a decision. “I think you should come. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.” He wondered what she would think of the painting he was working on.
“I think we’d love it. Is it wheelchair accessible?”
“Mostly. The main floor is. We don't have the elevator installed yet for the loft, but I'll get it in next month, I hope.”
“Well, then, I'll come and bring the kids. We all need a little culture in our lives, right?” She shook his hand. “I'll be back in touch with you about the house. I just need to finagle some numbers.”
“No problem. You know how to reach me.” He waited until Shyanne was rolling onto the van's platform to get into his car. When she was fully loaded and the door shut, he backed out of the driveway.
He might have found a buyer for the house!
“DO YOU NEED A HAND with that light?” Jonah asked.
Kaya looked down at him from the ladder, where she was adjusting the track lighting to focus on the painting she had hung earlier. Jonah had been giving her a crash course on all things gallery from his theory of design, lighting, pricing policies, and how he’d chosen the pieces. He’d been pleased at how quickly she’d picked things up.
“You can hold the ladder for me,” she said. “I start to get a little nervous when I'm up here.”
He shot her an apologetic look as he held one side. “I shouldn’t be having you climb the ladder. It came from Gram's so it's probably from before Grandpa was in a wheelchair. That’s been a while.” He had stepped into the office to talk to one of his artists and left her to work on the section— he’d taken much longer than anticipated. He hadn't thought about the condition of the ladder, but he should have. He watched her tweak the light a little to the left so it hit the painting perfectly. “You're getting good at this.” She had hung it all for great visual appeal and adjusted the series of lights.
“I'm a fast learner.” Kaya started down the ladder.
She always seemed to have a positive attitude. “I ordered a couple of sandwiches. I was just going to run next door to pick them up. Are you ready for a break?”
She tucked her hair back behind one ear. “Sure. You don't have to provide lunch so often.”
It wasn't that often, just a few times now. He hadn’t expected her to pick up so many hours when she first showed up at his door, but she had been a lifesaver. “I know, but you're giving up so much time to work here this week— more than I ever expected. I appreciate it.” He hadn't acted very appreciative the first day she'd shown up, but wanted to make up for it.
She descended the ladder and he stepped away, not wanting to crowd her. “I’ll grab that food and meet you in the back in a few minutes.” He hurried next door to pay for lunch and brought back two sandwiches and the best French fries he'd ever eaten. They were thick cut and beer battered, giving them twice the tastiness. Having them so close made giving up his favorite New York pizza far more bearable. “How is it you have so much time to help me, anyway? Don't you have a ton of clients?” Surely she didn’t charge enough to pay all of her bills and feed the horses off of a couple of hours each day.
She shrugged while he unpacked the bag. “I'm busier when it's warmer. A lot of patients take a break during the worst of the winter because of the cold and bad roads. I'm not working for Kenworth's anymore, either.”
He offered her the choice of ham or turkey and she took the ham. He split the fries with her, curious about that statement. “You were working at Kenworth's?” He remembered seeing her there, playing with the perfume bottles. Could she have been rearranging the display and not testing them all? “That day, when I saw you there?”
“Yeah. But last Monday...” She grimaced, and peeled back the sandwich wrapping. “Well, we'll just say I had scheduling conflicts, so I had to quit. I was only going to be there through the holiday season, anyway. I spent a good portion of the money I set aside to buy winter feed and to repair the barn roof, so I need a little extra to get my animals through the winter. I was glad when this opened up.”
“The joys of home ownership,” he said.
She fished out her water bottle. “Owning your own business has its drawbacks, too. I love it, don't get me wrong, but being responsible for every penny when there aren't a lot of extra ones can be tough sometimes. It's busy in the summer, so I save for the winter, but sometimes it doesn't all work out the way I plan.”
“Tell me about it. I thought I had more than enough money to get this off the ground, but one thing or the next has been chipping away at my cushion. Don't worry, though. You'll get paid.” Even if he had to live on Ramen and mac and cheese for a solid six months. He really hated cooking for himself.
She didn’t look worried. “Good to hear. The horses don't really thrive on snow as their main food source.”
“They're so picky.” He smiled to let her know it was a joke. “You seem to visit Grams a lot.”
“Yeah, she was so good to me when I moved into my grandma's a couple of years ago. Always there to offer a kind word or bring over dinner when I was exhausted from working hard fixing fences. She always tells me stories about my grandma. It helps
keep her alive for me. Ora also talks a lot about her grandkids. You especially. She's very proud. I think it's great that you came back here to keep an eye on her.”
Jonah picked at a piece of shredded lettuce on his sandwich. “I'd do anything for her. Besides, I love it here, and I was ready for a change. A complete change.” He'd been dragging around trying to paint post-Janet. This was a fresh start in many ways.
“She said you haven't painted anything in a long time.” Kaya's words were hesitant, as though she wanted to ask, but didn't want to pry.
“I hit a wall.” He paused. It felt wrong to gloss it over with Kaya, though he didn't know why. He went with the impulse. “I was dating someone seriously. When it ended, I found I could only paint dark stuff. Stuff I wouldn't buy or hang, and definitely wouldn’t sell. I tried working through it, but I tried so hard to paint things I wasn't feeling that I ended up not being able to paint at all. Nothing remotely good, anyway. Technically correct, but not emotionally true at all, so I had to stop. The gallery is sort of my backup plan.” It had taken a long time for him to admit it was what he had to do.
“That seems to have changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the painting of Shyanne this morning; it's nearly done, right? It's beautiful. It takes my breath away, actually.”
He was pleased that she liked it. He’d been so worried about whether it was as good as he thought. “Sometimes a change of scenery can make all the difference.” He was starting to think maybe it was Kaya that had made all the difference, but he wasn't ready to go there. He studied her as she ate. Maybe he wasn't as far off as he'd thought, though.
Christmas Kisses: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 1) Page 47
