A Brush With Love In Fortune's Bay

by Roberta Capizzi

  She needed to talk to him. She couldn’t think this was the end. She still believed they could make it work somehow. She was sure they had something worth exploring, even though she didn’t plan on coming back to Fortune’s Bay anytime soon.

  If she’d thought she knew what heartbreak was like, she’d been wrong. She’d never felt this much pain before. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she had fallen in love with him. She brought a hand to her heart and closed her eyes. Had she ever really been in love before? Was this what it felt like when you loved someone with all your heart and you lost him? A dull pain squeezed her chest, and more tears filled her eyes and spilled over.

  “Kyla, are you okay?”

  The male voice coming from her right choked a sob in her throat. Great, just her luck her brother should walk by. She couldn’t even suffer in peace in this stupid town.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice came out as a croak and she cleared her throat.

  Conor stepped in front of her and chucked her under the chin. When his eyebrows went up in that way of his that had always translated to “You’re not fooling me”, she let out a sigh.

  “I’ve messed things up with Caleb. And now he hates me.”

  Conor frowned and sat next to her. “Do I need to punch him again?”

  His tone was serious, and Kyla chuckled, despite the pain in her chest. “No. It’s me who deserves punching. I’m the one who lied and made a mess.”

  Conor’s arm went around her shoulder and he pulled her to him. She rested her head on his chest and let out a shaky sigh. She used to love Conor’s warm hugs; they made her feel safe and loved. Now she couldn’t help thinking Caleb’s hugs did it even better than her brother’s.

  “I lied to him. I didn’t tell him that the real reason why I stayed longer was so I could convince him to let us display his paintings at the gallery. I just wanted the promotion so badly, I didn’t realize that lying to him would be a double-edged sword that would eventually stab me. I should have known better. Now I’ve lost him, my boss is mad at me and will probably fire me when I go back to New York. Mom and Dad were right. I should have just stayed here.”

  “Well, yeah, that kind of sucks.”

  Kyla’s head whipped up and she stared at him, wondering whether he was being serious or if it was only a bad attempt at lifting her mood.

  Conor shrugged. “Even though I didn’t like the idea of you hanging out with him, being lied to is never nice. Considering he’s been the town’s outcast for all of his life, the fact that the only person who spent time with him did it because she was after something is kind of awful. It would be awful for anyone.”

  “I didn’t spend time with him just because I wanted his paintings,” Kyla said in an outraged tone. Sure, that had been one of the reasons she’d stayed in town, but she’d wanted to hang out with him long before she knew about the paintings, long before her conversation with her boss. “I’ve had a crush on him since high school.”

  Conor’s brows lifted and a smirk slowly appeared on his face. She hadn’t meant to share that bit of trivia with her brother, but there was no point in keeping it a secret anymore. Spending time with Caleb had been like a dream come true, like being teleported back to when she was seventeen and pined over the broody guy. And it had been ten times better than in her dreams.

  “Ah, hell. Looks like Destiny has struck again, although I’d wished she’d find someone better for you,” Conor said in a resigned tone.

  Kyla rolled her eyes. She’d never wanted to believe in the stupid legend, but all the couples the matchmaking ghost had her eyes set on always got their happy ending, including her brother. She desperately wanted one for herself and Caleb too. She blinked at the realization. She couldn’t imagine never seeing Caleb again, never spending time with him, never watching him painting again. Never kissing him again.

  “I was hoping she would match you with someone in town so you would come back to stay. I’m not thrilled with her choice, though.” He chuckled and squeezed her. “But she’s a stubborn ghost and won’t let anyone stand in her way when she’s set her eyes on someone, so I’ve sort of resigned myself to seeing you with him. It seems that you really like him.”

  “Conor, you’re thirty-one. Can you please stop believing there’s a ghost in town?” She stood up and picked up her bag, waking Sugarpuff from her nap. The dog yawned, then let out a happy whine when her eyes landed on Conor, hoping for some cuddles that he never failed to deliver.

  Conor scratched Sugarpuff’s head and looked up at Kyla with a goofy, lovesick smile plastered on his face. “Giorgia didn’t believe either, and now she’s sporting a diamond ring and thumbing through bridal magazines. You know we don’t believe in coincidences, here in Fortune.”

  She shook her head and, before her brother could change her mind about the legend and make her believe that Caleb was indeed her soul mate and they would get their happy ending, courtesy of a matchmaking ghost, she walked away, waving a hand over her head. She was sure her fairy tale had come to an end, and soon this would all be just a beautiful memory of a dream she’d gotten to savor for just a few days.

  She walked down the streets toward the pier and the beach. The one thing she missed the most when she left Fortune’s Bay, apart from her brother, was walking on a beach, her feet sinking in the warm sand and the smell of the sea filling her lungs. She used to take long walks on the beach, when she needed some thinking time away from everyone, and she was more relaxed afterward, even if she hadn’t managed to find a solution to her problems.

  As she walked past the art gallery, she couldn’t resist taking a peek. She used to come here every day after school, and during the summer months, she enjoyed helping out Mr. Cantwell, even though he couldn’t pay her. The gallery had been in his family for three generations and even though business had been struggling back then, he’d always pushed forward and refused to close up shop. With hindsight, and a little more experience now, she knew he should probably consider renovating and maybe trying to get in touch with new artists who would attract not only residents, but also people in the art world who’d come especially for the paintings.

  As she walked in, the first thing she noticed was the quiet that hit her straight on. It had never been a crowded place even on the best days, but there were always tourists coming and going during the busy summer season, and in December, when the town was full of people coming for Winterfest or the Treasure Hunt. Today, the only person in the room was Mr. Cantwell himself. His hair was whiter and his face more wrinkled, but the smile he gave her was the same he used to greet her with when she walked in after school.

  “Kyla Callaghan!” He walked toward her with open arms, and a moment later she was enveloped in a bear hug. “I heard you were back and was wondering when you’d stop by.”

  Mr. Cantwell had been the person who’d made her understand she wanted a career in the art business. Spending most of her afternoons here, studying the paintings and sculptures, had helped her develop a love for the arts.

  “Sorry. I’ve been busy catching up with family and friends.” She looked around the room at the paintings on the walls and frowned. There was nothing she would have displayed, let alone bought. No wonder the gallery was empty—the place was the epitome of desolation, with those dark, depressing canvasses.

  “It’s very quiet in here,” she said, not knowing how else to broach the subject. Mr. Cantwell seemed to deflate in front of her eyes, as his shoulders drooped and a frown wrinkled his face. She was sure she had touched a soft spot and wished she hadn’t said a word.

  “I’ve been struggling for a while. People aren’t interested anymore, tourists don’t care about buying art pieces, and since I haven’t been able to sell the old pieces, I couldn’t afford to look for new artists and paintings.” He brushed his fingers on a small chalk sculpture of what looked like a mermaid, and sighed. When he looked up from the sculpture, his eyes had taken on a veil of sorrow. “I’ve been trying to hold on to my family
legacy, but I’m afraid the time has come for me to sell. I was offered quite a bit of money from a franchise to turn this into a burger place.”

  “Oh, no. You can’t sell the gallery!” Kyla was horrified at the thought of the gallery closing in favor of just another fast-food chain, although she could understand this was a tough decision for Mr. Cantwell. She had experienced some quiet times at the gallery in New York too, and she knew just how easily business could change. They’d been lucky most of their existing clients had money to spend on special pieces they’d request specifically for their private collections, so Rodney only had to find the seller and complete the transaction. She bet the people in Fortune’s Bay couldn’t measure up to the kind of clients she was used to.

  “There’s nothing else I can do. I’m losing money just by unlocking the door in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could do something to help.” And she meant it. Not just to help Mr. Cantwell, but also to save the gallery that had played such a big role in her life. She couldn’t think of anything apart from buying it herself, with money she didn’t have, though.

  Mr. Cantwell shrugged and let out a sigh. “It’s how life goes. Besides, I’m ready to retire and enjoy some quality time in the open air with my grandchildren and my wife.”

  His face lit up at the mention of his family, and Kyla felt the familiar pang of disappointment in her chest sting again. Would she ever have a family of her own, with a loving husband, children, and dogs? She’d been too focused on her career and, admittedly, all the guys she’d dated had never screamed ‘family man, ready to settle down’. An image of Caleb and her playing with toddlers in his garden flashed to mind, and traitorous tears filled her eyes.

  Mr. Cantwell reached out his hand and rubbed her shoulder. “Are you all right, dear?”

  She blinked the tears away and gave him a weak smile. “Yes, it’s just…I have to go now,” she said, pulling herself together. She had tons of things to do, including booking a flight to New York, and she knew the more she stayed here, in the gallery and in town, the harder it would be to get over her heartbreak. Nearly nine years away from Fortune’s Bay hadn’t managed to erase what she felt for Caleb—if she didn’t leave soon enough, she’d never be able to go back to her life and make a name for herself.

  She gave Mr. Cantwell a parting hug, wishing him all the best, then she left. The sound of the tiny bell above the gallery door echoed like the looming sound of failure and defeat that squeezed her chest.

  Chapter 8

  With her suitcase stored in the trunk of her car and Sugarpuff squeezed close to her chest for moral support, Kyla walked the path to Caleb’s back porch, two days later. With no other reason to stay, now that she knew he was never going to sell his paintings to the gallery, she’d booked her flight and spent two miserable days moping around Conor’s apartment, avoiding all human interactions—apart from those with her brother and his girlfriend, who had now achieved the fiancée status the day before Kyla got her heart smashed to pieces. In the state she was in now, she couldn’t even share the excitement of the happy news with the couple. Every time she saw the sparkling diamond ring on Giorgia’s finger, a fresh bout of tears filled her eyes, and even though she kept saying they were happy tears, she was sure Conor and Giorgia knew she was still crying because of Caleb.

  She approached the spot where she and Caleb had spent quiet afternoons chatting, painting, and kissing under the shade of the trees, and her heart squeezed in her chest. She had a feeling he wouldn’t open the door, but she couldn’t think of going away without one last attempt at talking to him.

  Bear dozed under the table, but his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps, and he shot up as soon as he registered who the intruder was.

  “Hi, Bear.”

  Kyla patted his big head as soon as he got to her side, and Sugarpuff wriggled in her arms, wanting to go play with her buddy. Her baby would miss her friend just as much as Kyla would miss Bear’s owner. Both girls would be heartbroken by the time they landed in New York. Well, at least Sugarpuff had a chance to say goodbye to her friend now. As soon as Kyla put her down, she started her favorite game of zigzagging through Bear’s legs, yapping happily.

  “Where’s Caleb?” Kyla asked the dog, confident he would understand. She’d come to learn that not only was he a super-sweet dog, he was also incredibly smart. Bear cocked his head and let out a low whine. She glanced at the French doors of the room he used as his office, trying to see past the reflection and spot any signs of movement, in case he was hiding from her, but the room looked empty. “He’s not here, is he?”

  Bear barked once, and she took it as a no. Nevertheless, she walked over and knocked on the glass a couple of times, calling out Caleb’s name. She held her breath while she hoped he would show up and give her the chance to explain, but after a moment it was clear he wasn’t at home—or he was hiding somewhere in the house, waiting for her to leave. She let out a heavy sigh and a warm tear rolled down her cheek. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected this, though, so she’d come prepared. She reached inside her bag for the notepad and pen she’d placed there as her last resort, in case Caleb decided he wasn’t going to talk to her, and sat at the table. With her heart thumping wildly in her chest and warm tears streaming down her cheeks, she poured her soul onto the white sheet of paper, hoping the words would somehow reach Caleb’s heart and make him understand how much he meant to her.

  Once she was done, she folded the piece of paper and placed it into an envelope she’d brought with her, then wrote his name on its back and slid it under the French doors, confident he would see it whenever he came home. She knew he spent a lot of time in that room, so even if he didn’t see the letter today, he would see it tomorrow, for sure.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks, then gave one last, longing look at his house, as if hoping he would suddenly walk out with open arms and tell her how much he loved her. Sugarpuff pawed at her leg, as if she knew something was wrong with her human friend and she needed comfort. Kyla crouched down and picked her up, squeezing her to her chest. When Bear nudged her thigh with his muzzle, probably to offer some comfort too, she patted his head, and more tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to drop to her knees, throw her arms around the big, fluffy dog’s neck, and cry until she had no more tears left. Then wait for Caleb to be back, and throw her arms around his neck, letting him hold her to his chest while she begged for forgiveness and told him she would choose him over any promotion. Because she knew now that no promotion would ever fill her life and her heart the way being with Caleb had—and would have, if only she’d been courageous enough to tell him the truth instead of doing everything behind his back.

  She had to go. No good would come from ambushing him in his back garden anyway, and she couldn’t afford to miss her flight. What little of her life remained was in New York, and she needed to go back to her routine and pretend these two weeks had never happened. That she’d only dreamed what kissing Caleb, being in his arms, and spending time with him would be like, just like she’d done all these years. Maybe one day she’d be able to convince herself it really had been just a dream—and her heart would eventually heal.

  The pungent smell of disinfectant and sickness engulfed him as he stepped along the corridors in the nursing home. Although he should be used to it by now, it still made him nauseous every single time. It smelled of loneliness and death, of hopelessness and despair. He hated that he had to leave his father here, but it was what was best for him—at least according to the doctor. Franklin Morgan hadn’t been the epitome of a loving father after his wife left, to chase after a dream that had later turned her into a renowned artist. In spite of it all, Caleb had never hated him. Not even when his father trashed all of Caleb’s brushes and paint tubes and forbade him from ever painting again. The young kid who’d clung to his hobby because it made him feel a bond with his mom—even though she’d left him because of that hobby they shared—had squared his shoulders and prete
nded it hadn’t hurt him as much as it actually had.

  He took a deep breath before he entered his father’s room, bracing himself for the unknown. It was as if he never knew who the man he’d meet would be—as if he were visiting a different person every time. Sometimes, when his father was in a good mood, they’d have nice chats and even laugh at funny anecdotes about Caleb’s childhood or even his own—when he could remember who he was. Other times, Caleb would just sit by his bed in silence and watch TV with him, until his father decided he’d had enough and asked him to leave.

  The nurse had said today seemed to be one of the good days though, so Caleb hoped his father would be in the mood for a chat. He hated when he didn’t recognize his own son and sent him away.

  “Hi, son.”

  His father greeted him with a smile. He was sitting in the armchair and reading a book. It was another good sign. He hardly ever read when he was in one of his bad days. Caleb got closer and handed him the box from Vanilla Kisses with his dad’s favorite cupcakes. Once he’d brought them over when he was in a bad day, and they’d ended up on the floor. Today, Franklin reached for it with both hands and a huge grin, like a kid who was about to receive his favorite toy.

  Caleb’s heart broke. Franklin Morgan had been a loving dad before his wife left, and even though he’d been cold and grumpy since then, Caleb couldn’t bring himself to hate him. He’d just gotten his heart broken himself, so he could sympathize. He’d been feeling grumpy too since Kyla walked out of his life.

  “Take a seat, don’t just stand there like you’re ready to sprint out of the room.” His father’s tone was light and it filled Caleb with hope. He knew only a miracle would cure him from the disease that was robbing him of his memories, but it didn’t stop Caleb from hoping that it would somehow stop from progressing.