Natalie had been furious at the time, but when Colin broke up with her the next day, knowing his shoplifting and drinking days would be over, she had been secretly grateful and once again awed by her daddy’s ability to take control of a situation and protect her at any cost--even her own anger.
She parked her red car in the circular driveway and sat staring at the familiar impressive estate. As a teen the structure itself had evoked the most reaction from her, but now the memories of times spent here meant more than the stately architecture.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, stepping from the car to see him coming out the front door in his wool-lined moccasins. He had on gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a red flannel shirt over the top. Only at home did she see him dressed so casually.
“Good morning, baby,” he said, coming to greet her with a hug similar to the one at the wedding. “I see you found the place again.”
“It’s been a few years,” she said. “I had to drive slowly for about a half-mile so I wouldn’t miss it, but as soon as I saw that gate, I remembered.”
“Come on in,” he said, leading the way to the door beyond the brick archway. “Leona is here. She’s anxious to see you.”
Natalie took in the familiar sights and smells of the large foyer, spiral staircase, and marble-lined hallway leading to the expansive kitchen at the back of the house. She could see the lake from the large windows, reminding her of the impressive view from her old bedroom upstairs. The thought of occupying that room again made her more eager to move into the house.
“Miss Natalie! You are all grown up,” she heard Leona exclaim from the other side of the room. “I was expecting a child, but you are a young woman now.”
They met in the middle of the gourmet kitchen and embraced for several moments. Leona looked the same, a few more gray hairs maybe, but the same. She still wore that honeysuckle perfume too.
“It has been too long,” she said, stepping back to look at the older woman. A few more wrinkles graced her delicate face, but her sparkling green eyes were no worse for wear.
Leona offered to make them a big breakfast herself, but Natalie insisted she take the morning off. Her dad went to get dressed, and they left the house, driving Daddy’s car down the road to the elegant restaurant with a fantastic view of the lake. The inside had been updated but brought back more memories for her. She felt sixteen again. Her nervousness in being with her dad hadn’t changed in the last ten years. Even at twenty-six she felt like a little girl in her dad’s presence.
After ordering their food, Natalie decided not to put off the agony any longer. Telling Daddy her dilemma, she added her request at the end of her rambling.
“I’ll understand if you say no,” she said. “I’m a big girl, and I know I shouldn’t be running home, but--”
Daddy placed his hand on her arm. “You are always welcome, baby. I’d love to do this for you.”
Natalie smiled, rose from her chair, and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Natalie relaxed as each minute with her dad passed. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she never knew what to expect. He seemed to treat her differently as a young woman than he had as a teenager. She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected that, but somehow she hadn’t.
French toast covered with strawberry sauce and whipped cream was set in front of her, and she ate every bite. She had never dieted in her life. Her active lifestyle had always let her eat whatever, whenever she wanted. But in the last few years she had tried to eat healthier and cut down on sweets and heavy foods. Today she indulged herself.
“I know you don’t need my money,” Natalie said, after they had settled most of the other details. “But I would like to pay you something, just to ease my own conscience.”
“You have already paid me,” he said with such seriousness, she had to meet his gaze.
“Daddy--”
“You have let me be a part of your life, Natty. Something I do not deserve. You have already paid me with your open and forgiving heart.”
Natalie fought back the tears, knowing that was the end of it. Richard Matthews knew how to take control of any situation and make people see things his way, rendering them defenseless. At times she had hated him for it, but not today.
“What room do you want me to use?” she asked when her voice returned.
“The same one is fine,” he said. “You’re welcome to use any of them, but that one is the biggest and has the best view of the lake.”
“I remember,” she said, wondering if her white four-poster bed still occupied it. She had loved that bed with the yellow bedspread and white-lace canopy. When they returned to the house she decided to check it out.
“You’re welcome to arrange the room any way you like,” Daddy said as she ascended the staircase. “If you want new furniture I will buy it and have it delivered. Just say the word.”
“I know, Daddy,” she laughed, looking back at him standing at the bottom of the stairs. “I know.”
He said he would be in his office, and she hiked the remaining steps to the top. She remembered the night she had climbed them last. Her date for the prom had gotten drunk at an after-prom party, and she had called Daddy at two a.m. to have him come pick her up.
He had said little on the drive home, other than telling her she had done the right thing by calling him rather than getting into a car with a drunk driver. Her night had been awful for other reasons too. Her date had danced with her once the entire night. He had taken her to an expensive restaurant, but forgotten his wallet, or so he claimed, and she had paid with her mom’s credit card--a cause of yet another big fight with her mother when the bill came. Their plans for a romantic walk along the river afterwards had been replaced with a loud, obnoxious party. With her recent acceptance as a foreign exchange student, she had no interest in being a part of anything that could mar her record.
She had gone up to her room, laid down on her bed, and cried until no more tears would come. Daddy found her still fully dressed an hour later.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now, baby,” he said, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Why are you still in your dress? You haven’t even removed your shoes.”
“Daddy, why can’t I find a decent boyfriend? Why do I always pick such losers?”
He hadn’t answered, only pulled her into his arms and held her for a long time. “Get some sleep, Natty. I’ll take you out for breakfast in the morning.”
That was the last time she had slept in her bed, she realized. The next time Daddy had been in town a few weeks later, she had spent the night in the guest room downstairs because she couldn’t climb the stairs after tearing a hamstring in a track meet. After that he hadn’t been in town until the week before she had left for France, and she hadn’t been able to spend more than a few hours with him one afternoon.
She approached the open door of the bedroom with hesitant steps. A surge of adrenaline swept through her. What would she find? Would the four-poster bed be there? Would the shades be open like she had always kept them? Would her clothes still be in the chest of drawers? Surely not, she supposed. Leona had probably cleared everything out and redecorated long ago.
Stepping onto the plush cream carpet, she lifted her eyes to the sunlight streaming into the full-length windows. The view of the lake was as glorious as she remembered. Scanning the room, everything looked exactly the same as she had left it. The yellow bedspread, the pillow shams, even her brown tattered bear sat frozen in time. The chest of drawers, the vanity with the oval mirror, her perfume bottles, and--the music box.
She walked to the dresser with the large oval mirror and reached for the gift she had treasured more than any other. Turning the knob of the music box until it stopped, she fingered the hand-painted wildflowers on the top of the glass case before slowly opening the lid. The tune played, and she remembered the first time she had heard it, her first night in this room. Daddy had given it to her for her twelfth birthday.
<
br /> “For my beautiful wildflower,” he had said.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with her fingertips. She had missed seeing him. Her limited time with him in high school seemed like a luxury compared to the little time she’d spent with him since. Why did I ever think moving away would be the answer?
She set the music box back on the dresser and opened one of the drawers. Her clothes had not been touched. The closet bore the same, her out-of-fashion wardrobe she had selected so painstakingly so many years ago. In the corner hung her prom dress: An overpriced black satin number she certainly would never fit into ever again.
Natalie closed the closet doors and walked to the window, staring out at the water. She had always wanted to spend more weekends here than she did. The memory of this view had been the deciding factor when she had gone to interview for the teaching position in South Lake Tahoe nearly four years ago. Despite having more prestigious job offers in the Bay Area, she had been drawn to the more remote location, the small town feel, the mountains, and especially the lake.
In two weeks she would be living here, in the place she had missed for so long. But how often would Daddy be around this time? It wasn’t the house she wanted, it wasn’t the room, it wasn’t even the freedom she would have to pursue her career and remain in Portland until September; She wanted to make up for lost time. Moments with her dad she would give anything to have again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Natalie stepped out the front door, walked under the brick archway, and descended the stairs to the driveway. Daddy followed her. The overcast skies appeared to be breaking up, making her hopeful about the weather at the beach. Anything but heavy rain would be suitable.
Turning to face her dad, she spoke past the lump in her throat, not wanting their short time together to end so soon. “Any idea when you’ll be home again?”
“Probably not for a few weeks, but I’ll try and come as soon as I can,” he said. “I’ll give you a call and let you know.”
“Thanks again, Daddy,” she said, giving him a hug. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.”
“Bye, baby. Drive safe and take care of yourself.”
“I will. See you when you get back.”
She lowered herself into the driver’s seat, wishing she could have more time with him, but she needed to get going. Putting a stick of cinnamon gum into her mouth, she started the engine, waved out the open window, and drove away from the house.
When she hit the highway leading to the coast, she felt excited and nervous about the job she had to do. It had been six months since she had been on a major assignment like this, and she wondered if she would remember all the details she needed to take care of.
When she had gone on her first official assignment last June, she’d had grand dreams of traveling all over Europe, going to all the exciting, exotic locations she had either visited or read about. Her dream of living in France had come true with relative ease back in high school. Being fluent in the French language and knowing the culture from her years of study, she had fit in well with her host family and made friends at school quickly.
She had returned to Europe during her college years on an overseas study program, attending campuses in both Paris and Berlin. She had become fluent in German as well and picked up a fair amount of Italian and Spanish and a smattering of other languages from her summer travels since then. Languages had always come naturally to her.
Her love and gift for photography had fit in well with her travels in Europe. She had sold some photos to a stock agency a few years ago and then had been delighted and a bit shocked when Travel Europe, a popular magazine in the U.S. and abroad, had accepted some of her photos for publication. The photo editor at the time had been so impressed with her artistic flair for unusual and striking photos that he had promised to keep her busy with assignments if she was interested.
The opportunity to travel around Europe taking pictures and getting paid for it wasn’t the kind of thing she could pass up, and she had decided to request a leave of absence from her teaching position. Since she wasn’t going to Europe for the express purpose of doing things to improve her skills as a teacher, she had only been offered a non-paid leave, but she had been satisfied with that, expecting to be making money throughout the year with her photos.
That had come to an abrupt halt after her trip to Spain when the editor who had discovered her had been fired. Her dream had been short-lived, but she supposed it had all worked out for the best. Her time with Josie had meant more to her than any job or faraway land ever could.
She had also enjoyed the slower paced, low-pressure local assignments she’d managed to drum up in her hometown. Having to be with Tommy on the nights Josie worked hadn’t allowed her much time to take any big assignments, and she had spent the majority of the past few months taking small jobs for local travel and advertising agencies as well as building up her stock sales.
Now that Josie and Brandon were married and she was moving in with her dad, the freedom to step up her photography career once again was before her. She had no commitments to take up her time, allowing her to go anywhere at any time for as long as she needed.
She wondered if her former editor had found a job at another magazine yet. The last time she had contacted him he hadn’t, but he had been found innocent in the charges pressed against him for stealing from his former employer, and he hoped his cleared name would hold some clout again. She decided she would try to contact him when she got back at the end of the week.
Pulling off the highway to stop at a country store and buy something to drink, she got out of the car and went inside, reminding herself to keep her feet on the ground for now. Perhaps this was the only major assignment she would land before September, but either way, she wanted to enjoy this week as much as possible. The joy wasn’t so much in the assignments and the money, but in the moments of capturing the beauty of what she was photographing.
Her success as a photographer had come from experience and hard work, but it also came from her heart. When she followed all the technical rules she had learned, the rest fell into place with ease. Having an “eye” for a great photo, she felt anxious to get started and do what she knew she could do.
Walking to her car with a cold drink and candy bar in hand, she restarted the engine and pulled back onto the highway. She took the southwest route to Tillamook and then the road heading to Cape Mears, her first destination. Hiking up the paved trail leading to the lighthouse on the edge of the cliff, Natalie could feel the ocean air coming over the rise. She pulled on the brim of her denim cap to keep it from blowing away in the gusty breeze. When she reached the historic lighthouse, she saw the Pacific Ocean spread out below the cape like a gray blanket. The overcast skies did not show signs of rain.
She walked around the site, taking notes of favorable shooting angles, details she wanted to include, and getting a feel for the location. The cloudy sky created some good natural light, and she used up the entire roll of film, but she planned to return early the following morning to take more shots with the sun in a different location and hopefully some clearer skies.
She didn’t want to just take pictures, anyone with working knowledge of a camera could do that. Her job was to tell a story, to make those viewing the photos on the glossy pages of the magazine feel as if they were there with the wind hitting their face, touching the cool walls of the lighthouse, and marveling at the craftsmanship of the cut glass.
After checking into a motel in Tillamook, Natalie headed up the coast, driving for more than an hour to reach Cannon Beach. She had always loved the small but well-visited tourist town with long stretches of sandy beach and the famed Haystack Rock. As a child and during her visits home since going off to college, she’d been here many times.
Taking her favorite camera from her bag, the one her dad had given to her for her fifteenth birthday, she loaded it with personal film and took it with her to walk around town, looking for anything that caught he
r eye. Some of her favorite times as a photographer, as well as some of her best stock sales, had resulted from doing what she liked to call “capturing a moment.”
Nothing planned, nothing posed, nothing that wasn’t purely genuine. Whether it was a child taking his mother’s hand, a girl stopping to smell a flower, a thoughtful expression on someone’s face, or a couple in love; She enjoyed seeing people living their lives in simple ways and capturing those images.
While in town she also stopped by a few galleries. One in particular always left her inspired. Owned by a photographer selling mostly his own work, the small shop was overflowing with framed artwork of many Oregon locations: Cannon Beach and other coastlines, lighthouses, Multnomah Falls, Portland attractions, Mound Hood, and many others. Natalie didn’t know if she would ever have her own gallery, but she did hope to have her work displayed as art one day that people would want to buy and use to decorate their homes.
Following her dinner of clam chowder, homemade bread, and grilled salmon at a quaint log-cabin restaurant, she drove to the north end of town and followed the narrow, windy road leading to Ecola State Park where she planned to take some shots of the only inaccessible lighthouse.
Tillamook Rock sat out in the middle of the water away from the shoreline. She had taken pictures of it as a teenager with the help of Daddy and already knew the perfect location to set up her tripod. The smaller, abandoned lighthouse was not a huge priority for Mr. Trent, and she did not waste film, taking only enough to assure she would get at least one good one with the sun setting behind a thin layer of clouds in the background, creating a wonderful orange glow.
She also took some shots for her personal collection of the long stretch of beach with Haystack Rock along the horizon. She had photographed the scene many times before as a teenager with Daddy at her side. He had been the one to teach her about photography. They had set up a darkroom at his house to develop their own work. It had been a big part of the special bond they shared. She wanted him to be proud of her--then and now.
Wildflowers Page 5
