by Marin Thomas
Katelyn was rescued from responding when a woman in a blue-and-white polka-dot dress and matching hat stopped at the booth. “Hello,” Katelyn said.
“Is this your work or are you the artist’s representative?”
“I’m the artist.”
“Sonja Doyle.” The woman fished a business card from her purse and handed it to Katelyn, then leaned forward and peered at the scrawled signature across the bottom of a drawing.
Katelyn had signed all the pieces as Katelyn Chandler, because Katelyn Pratt was not and never had been an artist.
“I manage a gallery in Dallas and your charcoal sketches intrigue me.” The woman smiled. “Do you have a card?”
“I’m sorry.” Katelyn hated looking unprofessional. “I’ll write my contact information on the back of your card.” Katelyn scribbled her name, her cell number, email and the words charcoal sketches.
“I’ll be in touch.” Sonja Doyle moved on to the next booth.
Birdie whistled. “An art gallery. That’s big-time, daughter.”
“We’ll see if she reaches out to me.” Katelyn’s heart thumped heavily with excitement and the possibility of having her work find its way into a gallery.
“I need to stretch my legs,” Birdie said.
“Thanks for being here with me today, Mom.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’ll try to send some business your way.” Her mother walked off and a moment later, Katelyn heard her say, “Be sure you check out the paintings and sketches in that booth. She’s a local artist.”
Local artist.
If Katelyn decided to stay in St. Louis, she’d have to first find an apartment or a home to rent. Then, second, she’d have to figure out what to draw. She doubted people who lived in the Midwest would want artwork highlighting small-town life in Texas.
“Katelyn!” Shirley and Vern zigzagged through the crowd.
“How was your lunch?” Katelyn asked.
“We had barbecue, but it was too smoky for my taste.” Shirley pointed to a piece behind Katelyn. “That’s Sadie’s beauty shop.”
Vern moved closer to the charcoal drawing. “Is that you sitting in the chair?”
Shirley slipped on her glasses. “That is me!”
Katelyn had captured the scene in the beauty shop the day Sadie had cut Shirley’s hair.
“They look like a pack of hyenas ready to pounce on their prey.” Vern’s smile turned into a grimace when Shirley elbowed him in the side.
In the drawing, the members of the ladies’ society were gathered around the styling chair, each of them examining Shirley’s new hairdo.
“Are you upset that I did a sketch of you?” Katelyn nibbled her lip.
Shirley shook her head. “I love it.”
“Then I’ll get it for you. I’ve been trying to think of something to buy a woman who has everything.” Vern grinned at Katelyn. “Will you put a Sold sign on the picture?”
Shirley beamed. “I think it should hang on the wall inside Sadie’s beauty shop.”
“If it makes you happy, sweetheart,” Vern said.
Sweetheart? The perm queen was no sweetheart.
“Vern will settle up with you at home,” Shirley said.
When had Katelyn’s childhood home become her mother-in-law’s?
Shirley took Vern’s hand and they walked off. Katelyn sold one more item—a Fourth of July scene at the town park—then sat by herself for over an hour before Layla and Brian showed up at the booth. A pang of envy caught her by surprise. She wished she could spend the day looking at art with Jackson. “Are you two having fun?”
The couple exchanged a smile. “Has anyone bought your work?” Layla asked.
“Vern’s buying the beauty shop picture, and I might be doing another painting of Jackson’s garage for a man and his wife.” She looked past the lovebirds. “Did Gavin come with you?”
“He stayed the night at a friend’s house.” Layla nudged Brian. “What are you staring at?”
“You.” He pointed to the easel in the corner.
“Is that me?” She walked closer to the painting. “It’s sold. Who bought it?”
“I did.” Brian put his arm around her. “I’m hanging it in my bedroom.”
Layla’s cheeks bloomed pink.
Brian spoke to Katelyn. “We’ll be back later to get the painting.” The pair left, stumbling when they tried to kiss and walk at the same time.
A few minutes later Jackson showed up at the tent. Even though he smiled, his stiff posture said he wanted to be anywhere but standing in the crowded town square. Katelyn wrapped her arms around him and pressed her nose to his clean-smelling T-shirt. “Thank you for coming.”
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Brian bought the portrait of Layla.”
Jackson’s attention swung to the painting of Mendoza Auto. He stared at it for the longest time, then looked at her, his eyes shimmering with an emotion she couldn’t identify. “Is that how I look to you?”
“If you mean I see a confident, strong, self-assured man, then the answer is yes.”
He swallowed hard. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
“I’ll be back at the end of the day to help you take down the tent.” He disappeared into the crowd. She hadn’t expected him to show up at all today, and his support meant the world to her.
An hour before the festival ended, the judges made the rounds, viewing all the entries. Like the other artists, Katelyn hoped one of her pieces might catch the eye of a judge. Winning a ribbon would go a long way in proving that she wasn’t deceiving herself into thinking she had talent. The art gallery manager’s interest in her charcoal sketches had been an unexpected bonus and Katelyn would have to ponder long and hard about what she wanted for her future.
She moved the easels out of the shadows, then crossed her fingers behind her back and pasted a confident smile on her face when the judges stopped at her booth.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Do you want to grab a bite to eat to celebrate your first-place ribbon?” Jackson stopped the pickup at a red light in downtown Pecos.
Katelyn had been floored when the panel of judges presented her with a Best-of-Show ribbon for the painting of Mendoza Auto. “Since my mother hauled my artwork home in her car, we can do anything you want tonight.” When Jackson didn’t crack a smile at her suggestive comment, she suspected there was something other than celebrating on his mind.
“Let’s stop at Sonic and get our food to go,” she said. “We can eat by the tracks.” The one place she and Jackson had always been able to talk freely.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was tired, but her fatigue had nothing to do with standing on her feet all day—she’d grown accustomed to that working at the Buy & Bag. Her weariness was the result of the anxiety that had been steadily building inside her as she’d prepared for the art show. Not knowing how her work would be received had tied her stomach in knots, but when the judges had placed the ribbon on her painting, the ball of stress had unraveled, leaving her with a peaceful, hopeful feeling.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, she said, “Why do you think they picked the Mendoza Auto over my other pieces?”
His gaze swung to her mouth. “The sexy mechanic in the sketch swayed them.”
Katelyn laughed. “I bet you’re right.”
They stopped at the fast-food restaurant and ordered foot-long chili-cheese dogs, French fries and sodas, then left the town of Pecos. When they approached the outskirts of Little Springs, Jackson took a different route along a farm-to-market road, then drove half a mile before veering onto a dirt path and stopping.
“Whose property is this?”
“It’s the south side of O’Malley’s land. The house has been vacant f
or years. After O’Malley passed away, his kids tried to sell the place, but the bank ended up with it.”
“With Catfish Bay close by, I’m surprised a developer hasn’t bought the land and turned it into an RV park.”
“It’s too close to the tracks.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing a whistle or feeling the ground shake every day.” The noise had always reminded her that there was a big world outside Little Springs waiting to be explored.
When they got out of the pickup, Jackson lowered the tailgate. Before Katelyn had a chance to climb up and sit, he hoisted her into the air and set her on the edge. “You’re still a lightweight.”
“I’m twelve pounds heavier than I was in high school. I think you’ve got bigger muscles, that’s all.” She divvied up the food.
“The sky’s clear. We should see the stars tonight,” he said.
“We spent a lot of time down by the tracks before I left for college, but we weren’t stargazing.”
“I was too busy trying to get into your panties to care about watching the sky.”
She smiled. “Your eyes were my downfall.”
“What do you mean?”
Katelyn popped a fry into her mouth. “For a guy who doesn’t care to discuss his feelings, your eyes do a lot of talking.”
“You do a lot of talking with your mouth, and I don’t make fun of you.”
She caressed his cheek. “You never pushed me into having sex. You always let me set the pace.”
“You were worth the wait.”
“It took you thirteen seconds to answer me when I said I was ready.” She laughed. “I thought you’d gotten cold feet.”
“I wanted it to be good for you.” He crushed his food wrapper into a ball.
“We never spoke about it, but was I your first?” she asked.
“No.”
After all these years, a marriage and two kids, Katelyn still felt a tiny prick of jealousy. “Who was she?”
“I only knew her first name. Annette was at a house party I went to in Midland. We made out in one of the bedrooms. Never saw her again after that night.”
“I’m glad you were my first.” She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed when his fingers toyed with the ends of her hair. Don had rarely touched Katelyn’s hair—not even when they’d made love. “I can’t believe how fast this summer has gone by,” she said.
“You didn’t get here until the middle of June.”
“Jackson.”
“What?”
“I admire you for checking up on your mother. It can’t be easy.”
“It takes too much energy to hold a grudge.”
“I wish I hadn’t sent you a breakup letter.”
After Katelyn had told Jackson she’d accepted the art scholarship from the University of Missouri, she’d felt him pull away from her—not physically, but emotionally. Maybe he’d known all along, despite her protests and assurances, that when she left town, she’d never return.
He pushed off the tailgate, paced several yards away, then faced Katelyn. “I wanted you to pursue your dream,” he said, “but at the same time, I wanted you to want me more.” He’d almost driven to Missouri and begged her to give up her scholarship and return home with him.
As if she stood in a real-life painting, the sun sank behind the horizon, leaving her swathed in a purplish glow.
“I didn’t break up with you face-to-face,” Katelyn said, “because I knew you would change my mind.”
“Would you stay now if I asked you to?” Jackson watched her struggle with the question, mesmerized by the way her eyebrows moved across her forehead. He’d been drawn to Katelyn because she hadn’t tried to conceal her feelings from him. She’d always given her emotions free rein and had never worried about the consequences. But a lot of years had passed them by, and she wasn’t the same girl he’d dated in high school. The decisions she made about her future would impact not only her but also her children.
“I’ve finally started sketching again, and if I’m going to give myself a chance to see where my art can take me, then I need to be in the right place.”
“You had offers to buy your paintings today.” He closed the distance between them, stopping in front of her. “We don’t have to rush into anything. We can take it slow.”
Katelyn’s face twisted in pain. “You don’t get it.”
“Help me understand.”
“I’ve had to face some hard truths with my divorce.”
“Like what?”
“That my marriage was supposed to feed my creativity, and instead it stole my confidence and nurtured self-doubt.”
“Do you still have feelings for Don?”
“No,” she said with conviction.
“Are you afraid I’ll start drinking if things don’t work out between us?”
She dropped her gaze. “The thought has crossed my mind.”
“I was drinking before you left for college, and I would have continued drinking even if we’d stayed together.” He inched closer. “I’d like to believe that if our relationship hadn’t ended, I’d have eventually given up booze, but I doubt that would have happened.”
“Vern seems to believe differently. He warned me away from you.”
Jackson grasped her arms and waited until Katelyn looked him in the eye. “I am the only one who has control over my drinking. It’s taken years for me to admit the truth, but I’ve accepted responsibility for the path I chose in life and I’m at peace with that.”
“I want to believe you, Jackson.”
“I’m not asking for any promises. I’m not asking you to marry me or even for us to move in together. I’m asking you to think about staying in Little Springs and seeing if what we have together is better than what we have alone.”
She played with the collar of his T-shirt. “You’ve helped me reconnect with my creative side, but I’m terrified that if things go south between us, I’ll lose that burning desire to sketch again.”
“You can’t lose what’s been inside of you your whole life, Katelyn. Maybe I helped bring it out. Maybe being back in this town, reconnecting with your mother, working at the grocery store or spending time at the train tracks has helped you recapture your yearning to draw, but don’t believe for a minute that I, this town or anyone else has the power to rob you of your passion.”
“What if there’s another place that inspires me to do better work? How will I know if I don’t search for it?”
Jackson’s stomach bottomed out. His gut told him that Katelyn wasn’t worried as much about finding that perfect place to nurture her creativity as she was about trusting him.
Ignoring the stinging pain of his chest splitting wide open, he cupped her cheek and said, “What I want most is for you to be happy, so go search for that perfect place.” He pressed a gentle kiss on her mouth, then took her hand. “C’mon. I’ll take you home.”
The drive into Little Springs was the longest four minutes of Jackson’s life.
• • •
“Good morning,” Walter said when Katelyn walked into the employee lounge Monday morning.
“Am I late?” She stowed her purse in the locker and slipped on her smock.
“No, I wanted to congratulate you on winning Best in Show at the art festival.”
“Thank you.”
Walter frowned. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”
“I didn’t get much rest last night.” Her sleep had been disturbed by dreams of riding a train traveling too fast for her to jump off.
“At least one of my workers is in a good mood today,” he said.
Kim wasn’t scheduled to come in until this afternoon, so he must be talking about Layla. “What’s going on?”
“Layla hasn’t stopped smiling since she clocked in an hour ago.”
When Wal
ter stared expectantly, Katelyn asked, “Did she say why she’s happy?”
Walter beamed. “I told her I’d work around her schedule if she went back to school this fall so she didn’t have to look for a new job.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Speaking of schedules . . . when’s your last day?” he asked.
“Mom and I planned to leave next Thursday or Friday.”
“With Birdie going to part-time, I may have to hire another employee.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “What about you?”
“What about me what?” she asked.
“Are you coming back to Little Springs after you help your daughter get settled in college, or are you staying in St. Louis?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“If you do return, you’re welcome to work here as often or as little as you want.”
“I appreciate the offer.”
“I’m stocking shelves today,” Walter said.
She followed the boss to the front of the store, but before Katelyn and Layla had a chance to speak, Ginny wheeled her cart up to the register.
“I ran out of flour and sugar this morning while I was making pies.” Ginny stacked the baking supplies on the counter. “I’m stocking up, since it’s on sale this week.”
“Did you leave any on the shelf?” Katelyn laughed.
“Nope. I cleaned you out.”
“I’ll let Walter know.” Layla went to search for the boss.
“Any chance they’ll build a Costco around here in the future? That’s the place to buy in bulk,” Katelyn said.
“By the time they do, I’ll be too old to drive.”
“Walter appreciates your business, Ginny.” Katelyn glanced over her shoulder when she heard the front doors open. Brian entered with his dolly and Layla met him at the door. He followed her to the cigarette case, where they chatted while she stocked the smokes.
“What’s going on between those two?” Ginny inserted her credit card into the payment machine.
“They’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend,” Katelyn said. Walter approached the register and she said, “Would you help Ginny load her bags into her car?”
