A couple of tears spilled onto Jimmy’s cheeks and he scrubbed them away with the back of his hand.
“Jim, you know I wouldn’t do that,” Paul said, feeling the usual exasperated frustration rubbing at him like sandpaper.
Jimmy nodded and swallowed hard before he said. “Yeah, but Saturday I lost it and I tried to drown the fear in booze. I didn’t even want it, but I kept drinking because I couldn’t face the idea of a life without Eric.”
Paul felt his mouth twist into a grimace of understanding. Hadn’t he just felt the same way about a future without Julia?
Jimmy lifted his eyes and looked at Paul straight on. “I called Adam on Tuesday and went to talk to him. We’ve talked a lot since then. I understand something really important now. You are not responsible for keeping Eric in my life. I am. If I don’t love my son enough to stay sober even when he’s not around, then I don’t love him enough. Period.”
Paul sat forward as his brother said the words he’d always hoped to hear.
“I’ve made a commitment to myself and to Terri and most importantly to Eric, although he doesn’t know it,” Jimmy said. “I will stay sober for the rest of my life, one day at a time, because I love my son down to the bottom of my soul.”
Conviction rang in Jimmy’s voice, and Paul felt a tightness in his throat.
“I told you about making amends, so I went to see Terri.” Jimmy picked up his glass and took a sip of tea. “I told her how sorry I was about what I’d done to her and our family.” He looked at Paul over the top of the glass. “I asked her to release you from your promise.”
Paul was afraid to hear Terri’s answer. “It’s not a promise; it’s a legal document.”
Jimmy ignored him. “After we talked for a long time, she said she’d be willing to consider it as long as I keep going to the AA meetings.” Jimmy dropped his gaze, his throat working. “She thinks I’m being a good dad to Eric nowadays.”
Paul had to swipe at his own cheeks to dry them. His brother had finally found the strength to be a worthy father to Eric.
His brother straightened abruptly to look Paul in the eye. “I’m going to earn your way out of that promise to Terri, I swear. I’m going to make sure you’re free to live your own life again.”
Paul felt something like hope unfurl in his chest. His brother might have a long road to walk, but at last he was taking the first real steps. Paul stood and walked over to him. “Jimmy, you’ve made me proud.” He opened his arms, and Jimmy rose and stepped into the embrace. Paul hugged him hard. “Real proud.”
Chapter 30
JULIA HELD THE edges of Darkside’s portrait gingerly as she jabbed her elbow against the buzzer. Claire had closed the Gallery at Sanctuary for the day to get ready for the exhibition that evening, so the front door was locked. Belle Messer, the gala auction organizer, had persuaded Claire to exhibit the portrait tonight to drum up interest in the gala and perhaps entice some big spenders to attend.
The door swung open, and Tim Arbuckle towered over her. “Let me give you a hand with that,” he said in his rumble of a voice.
“Thanks but it’s still got some wet spots. Just point me to an easel.” She’d gone over to her studio that morning to put some finishing touches on the painting, adding her signature in bright turquoise blue so any prospective bidders could see it clearly.
Tim led the way to an easel set at an angle in one corner of the gallery. “Claire wants it here in the lights, away from everything else. Displayed like a rare and precious gem, she said.”
Claire’s description brought some welcome warmth to the fog of desolation surrounding her. Julia gave Tim a grateful smile and eased the canvas onto the stand.
As she stepped back, Tim crossed his arms and planted himself in front of the portrait. The strong lights brought up a tint of auburn in the hair curving onto his forehead. Julia wished she were staying longer so she could paint the big man as a gift to Claire. He pursed his lips in a low whistle. “This painting has layers on layers. You need to study it to understand them all.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised; Tim was married to a very sophisticated art dealer. But she hadn’t expected such perception from a man who seemed so straightforwardly a country veterinarian.
Something of her reaction must have shown in her face because Claire laughed as she came up to slip her hand through the crook of Tim’s elbow. “He fooled me too when I first met him. He’s a collector of equine art, so one of your Night Mares just might find its way into his collection. Not that I will show any favoritism.”
“The only reason she married me was to get her favorite Castillo painting back,” Tim said, his eyes glinting with mischief.
The love enveloping the two of them made Julia ache, so she turned toward the Night Mares. “You opened up the space more when you added the new ones,” she said, sweeping her hand around the circle of panels. “It looks great.”
“And we can get more people into the exhibit at the same time,” Claire said.
“Let me move that last chair and then I have to go vaccinate the Cruikshanks’ new cows,” Tim said, dropping a kiss on the top of his wife’s head. He picked up a leather armchair like it was a paper cutout and strode off down the back hallway with it.
Claire tugged Julia over to the couch, which was now positioned near the desk. “Tell me what’s happened,” she said, pulling Julia down beside her on the cushion.
Julia knew she looked like hell. She’d passed up dinner the night before because her stomach had tied itself in a knot that refused to unravel. This morning, the smell of pancakes and bacon had twisted the knot tighter.
She’d spent the sleepless night drawing Paul’s face over and over and over again, trying to empty him out of her mind and onto the paper. She’d awakened this morning on the sofa, a snowstorm of torn pages blanketing the floor around her.
“I love Paul,” she said to Claire, “but he doesn’t feel the same way.”
Concern shadowed Claire’s brown eyes. “I think you’re wrong. He just has a very complicated set of responsibilities.”
“He told me.” Julia swallowed hard. She had also decided she wouldn’t cry over him anymore, but that was proving difficult. “I’m not asking him to shirk them. He’s the one who thinks he can’t do both.”
Claire frowned and looked away. “I was afraid of that.”
“I know you’re old friends and you’re worried about him,” Julia said. “I threw everything I could at him, but I can’t break through that wall he’s put up. He doesn’t love me enough to let me in.” It was the conclusion she’d reluctantly reached after her long night of reliving every moment of their time together.
Claire sighed. “I really thought…” She shook her head.
“I feel like I’ve swallowed a gallon of brush cleaner, but I’ll never regret loving Paul,” Julia said, wobbling up off the divan. “Now I’ve got to get the painting over to his office. Verna told me he has a fifteen-minute opening right before lunch.”
Claire stood and enveloped her in a hug. “I hope you can get him to keep it.”
“That’s why I want witnesses.”
They walked down the hallway to a room filled with artwork neatly slotted into wooden racks. “I got my framer to do a rush job on it so Paul can hang it immediately.” Julia started to stammer a thanks, but Claire waved her into silence. She pulled out a big bubble-wrapped canvas and lowered it to the floor. “How are you going to get this there?”
“Carry it.”
“On foot? It’s pretty big and unwieldy.”
“More witnesses. And I’m used to carrying big canvases around.” Julia took a breath and met Claire’s eyes straight on. After the woman’s kindness in having the painting framed, Julia felt even guiltier about what she was about to say. “I know I promised to stay for the auction tomorrow, but do you think I could decline? My uncle is flying home Saturday morning and I thought I’d go with him. I don’t think it will hurt the bidding all that much if I�
��m not at the gala.”
Claire’s eyes brimmed with understanding. “Of course you can go home. I’ll deal with Belle. You’ve done more than enough.”
Julia nodded in gratitude. Bending her knees, she grabbed the two handles the framer had considerately attached to the picture’s wrapping on one side. “As long as I don’t run into a high wind, this won’t be too hard to carry,” she said, as she straightened with the painting held against her right hip. It topped her head by a couple of feet and reached to the middle of her shins.
“There’s no question people will notice you,” Claire said.
“That’s my plan.” She’d learned the power of social pressure from Paul himself. If everyone knew she’d given this to Paul, he would have a hard time returning it.
Hefting it to a slightly more comfortable position, Julia followed Claire to the front door and maneuvered the painting through it. She was grateful for the bubble wrap as she banged one corner into the doorjamb as she turned. This was going to be a little harder than she anticipated.
Setting off toward Paul’s office, she kept watch for pedestrians, flower tubs, benches, and lampposts, all of which populated the sidewalks of Sanctuary. A glimpse of a particularly abundant tub of purple and yellow petunias lit by late-morning sunshine stirred her with its simple but lavish beauty. She drank in the sound of tires on pavement, greetings called to acquaintances, and during a lull in traffic, the trill of a robin perched in one of the linden trees lining the street.
Several men across a range of ages offered to give her a hand with her burden, reminding her of the friendliness she’d come to cherish here. People in Sanctuary might know each other’s business, but they also pitched in when that business got sticky. She thought of Verna, who was aiding and abetting this little escapade with relish. Isolated as she’d been at home, it surprised and delighted her when someone she barely knew lined up beside her to help.
She needed to carry the painting herself, but she let everyone know where she was going with it. That information earned a few approving winks and nods, which brought an ache to her throat. She didn’t explain this was a farewell gift.
It took a couple of rest stops but she finally made it to the Victorian house where Paul worked. She clumped up the steps and put her package down to swing open the heavy oak-and-glass door. Edging the painting through the opening, she leaned it against the banister of the staircase as she closed the door behind her. When she turned, Verna was gesturing her into Paul’s reception area.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Verna said, helping her guide the big canvas through the doorway. “His last appointment canceled, and I’ve been keeping him busy with finding old documents on the computer.”
“It’s heavier than I thought, so I had to rest once or twice.” Julia propped the canvas against some chairs.
Verna eyed the painting, which seemed to take up half the room. Julia frowned as she realized she’d only seen the Night Mare in her large studio at home or a wide-open gallery space. Maybe the scale was too big for any place Paul had to hang it.
She couldn’t worry about that now.
“Verna, do you really need the Snedegars’ divorce papers right—” Paul stopped in the door to his office as his gaze met Julia’s. Something flared in his eyes and then the mayoral smile closed the shutter on all emotion.
“If it’s not my favorite artist.” He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Did you stop by to look over the contract with Claire? Verna, can you print that out for me?” He turned away a little too quickly to be convincing in his unconcern.
Julia closed her eyes to brace herself against the yearning response of her body to the all-too-brief touch of his lips. She swallowed and opened her eyes again. The back of his pale-blue shirt stretched across his shoulders as he leaned over Verna’s desk. Shoulders whose skin and muscle and bone she had explored with her fingers, even raked her nails over in moments of passion. She tucked her fingers into her palms to keep herself from skimming them over the warmth of his body one more time.
This was harder than she expected.
“Here you go,” Paul said, holding a stapled document out to her. He had to lean forward slightly to bridge the distance between them. As soon as she grasped the papers, he took another step backward. Glancing at his watch, he said, “I guess we could take a quick pass through it now.” His gaze went past her and narrowed. “What the—?”
She took a certain pleasure in knowing he’d just noticed the giant painting in the room. It meant he’d been focused entirely on her. “It’s the Night Mare you admired. I’m giving it to you.”
The easy smile slipped slightly as his jaw muscles went rigid. “I seem to remember telling you I couldn’t accept such a valuable gift.”
“I carried it all the way over here by myself and I’m not carrying it back.”
He glanced at Verna, who sat behind her desk, not even pretending to work. “I imagine I can find someone with a pickup truck to take it back.”
Unlike Paul, Julia didn’t care what Verna heard. She squared her shoulders and locked her gaze with his. “Don’t reject this gift too.”
He flinched. “Maybe we should discuss this in my office.” He swept his hand toward the open door in a command she decided to obey.
She preceded him into the room, hearing the door click shut behind her. He kept his back to her as he walked to the other side of the desk. When he turned, his mask fell away. “I’m no art collector. What the hell will I do with something that valuable?”
“Remember me when you look at it.” His stony refusal tore at her.
He rested his fists on the desktop and leaned forward, his voice low and sibilant. “Your memory is burned into every cell of my body.”
“Oh.” The words seemed flattering, but he said it as though he regretted the fact.
He collapsed into his chair. “I’ll keep the painting but please leave now.”
“I have to tell you one more thing.” She perched on the edge of the chair closest to his desk.
He lifted his head as though it weighed a ton. The fingers of his left hand beat a near-silent tattoo on the blotter.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t want you to know this about me, but I owe you the truth.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t owe me anything. Quite the opposite.”
“I owe you this.” She twined her hands together in her lap. “My uncle had a reason for being so overprotective. It’s why I’d never learned to ride a horse. Or ridden a motorcycle or swum in a river.”
Paul’s fingers stilled.
“I had epilepsy.” She said it carefully to make sure it was in the past tense. She couldn’t look at Paul yet, so she stared at the shape her hands made. “The first time Papi put me on a horse, I had a seizure and fell off. He caught me so I wasn’t hurt, but he never wanted to risk it again. So I drew horses instead.” She hazarded a glance at Paul. His face gave away nothing.
“You say you had epilepsy.” His enunciation was as careful as hers. “Does that mean you no longer have it?”
“It’s not a question with a yes or no answer. I haven’t had a seizure in seven years. Two years ago my doctors allowed me to stop taking my antiseizure medication.” She faltered to a stop.
“So are you cured?”
“As long as I don’t have another seizure I am. Many people grow out of epilepsy if it develops when they’re children. I seem to be one of them.”
“Seem?”
She shrugged. She wasn’t going to lie to him. “I believe I’m cured.”
He folded his hands together on his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have treated me differently.”
“You’re damned right I would have. Do you realize how dangerous—” The volume of his voice rose until he cut himself off. “Of course you do,” he said levelly. “You deliberately withheld the information.”
Despite her resolution, Julia felt tears burn in her eyes. �
�I didn’t tell you because you wouldn’t have taken me riding on your motorcycle or to the river or—”
“Jesus Christ!” He surged to his feet, sending his chair slamming into the wall. “How do you think I would have felt if you’d gotten hurt? Or worse?”
The tears spilled down her cheeks and she dashed them away with her wrist. “I wanted you to see me as a normal person.”
“There’s nothing normal about you. I’ve been saying that all along.” He stalked over to the window.
She fought down the sob threatening to tear out of her throat. “Maybe I’d better go.”
He turned, his arms crossed. “I’ve been telling you that for days. You don’t belong here.”
She wiped her eyes one last time and stood up, her head high. “I don’t regret anything I’ve done.”
“Wish I could say the same. I could have hurt you several times over. When I think about the hazardous situations I put you in…”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I had a chance to leave my past behind and I took it.” She risked a quick glance at his face. His jaw was clenched tight and a vein pulsed at his temple.
She retreated to the door, stopping as she put her hand on the doorknob. Keeping her eyes on the wood panel in front of her, she said, “Will you still come to the reception tonight?”
“I’ll be there.” His words were as sharp as broken glass.
She nodded and opened the door. Verna swiveled her chair around, but Julia held up her hand in a silent plea.
“You go on then, hon,” Verna said. “It’s none of my business what happened in there.”
Julia got herself out the front door and down the steps before the sobs broke through.
She’d feared his pity, but she hadn’t been prepared for his anger.
Chapter 31
PAUL RAN A yellow light right in front of a town police car. The cop waved and let him pass. Terri had just called to say Eric was in the hospital after some sort of serious accident involving bees. She was on her way from her job, but Paul was closer so he’d volunteered to offer backup to his brother.
Country Roads Page 31
