“You mean mine?” Charity poked her index finger against her chest.
Rob shot Madison a puzzled look.
Patting his shoulder, Madison chuckled. “Don’t worry, Rob. I am the artist. I recently painted the portrait as a sixteenth birthday gift for Charity. So, while she’s the official owner, I am the artist. And of course, I do have her permission for this piece to be in the contest. You can ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“You just about gave me a heart attack.” Rob heaved a relieved sigh. “There are rumors that Girl in a Field is tipped as one of the favorites to win, so I’m relieved to hear that Charity has given her okay. How her cherished Kansas piece had to be pulled from the contest is something I would hate to have to explain to Ellie.”
“Explain what to Ellie?”
The mature woman’s voice caused Rob, Madison, and Charity to whirl around.
Madison stared, even though her mother had taught her it was rude to do so. The sixty-something legend of the art world looked very different in real life as opposed to the professional photographs Madison had seen in glossy art magazines, as well as the Ellie Sanders Gallery website and on some TV shows. More down to earth dressed in a pair of jeans with a blue button-up shirt over her white T-shirt, sans the jewelry she usually dripped with. On her feet she wore comfortable, beige, slip-on espadrilles. Her straight, long bob—now a platinum-blond—hung loosely around her shoulders, not tied up in one of those fancy French twists that were so iconic of the talented artist. She wore minimal makeup, and sported a pair of dark rimmed, geometric-shaped glasses. Yet, even dressed down, Ellie Sanders had an elegance about her.
Even though they’d never met before, there was something so familiar about the woman that Madison only noticed now seeing her in person. But she couldn’t place what.
Ellie held out a hand. “Madison Peterson. I’m so pleased to meet you.”
After shaking Madison’s hand, she turned to Charity. “And you must be—”
“The Girl in a Field.” Charity grinned. “But you can call me Charity.”
“What a beautiful name. And you are just as pretty as that picture your mother painted. Dressed like that, all we need to do is have you stand on one of those low plinths and you’ll win the judges’ hearts for sure.” Ellie pointed to the backpack slung over Charity’s shoulders. “But first, we’d need to relieve you of that. It’s definitely not in the original.”
Charity gave a nervous laugh.
Leaning closer, Ellie examined Charity’s face. “You have your father’s eyes.”
Madison started at Ellie’s observation. What? “You’ve met my husband?” Brody had never mentioned it before.
Ellie gave a light shrug. “Well, she doesn’t have your eyes, Madison dear. You know that I’m all about the perfect shade of color, so even though your eyes are also blue, they’re so much darker than Charity’s. The natural assumption then is that she must have her fathers’ eyes.”
Oh, right.
Ellie’s own light blue gaze sparkled with excitement as she turned to Rob and reached for the precious cargo that he’d rested on the glossy floor. “Is that it?”
Rob handed the package to Ellie. “Maddie says it is. I’m taking her word for it.”
Ellie turned to Madison. “Do you mind if we unwrap it now? Don’t worry, it’ll be perfectly safe—the place where it will hang is ready and waiting. Soon the other artists will be arriving with their entries as well. And there will be 24-hour security.”
Madison’s heart beat faster. “Of course. Be my guest.”
Laying the box on the floor, Ellie opened it. With Rob’s help, she pulled the bubble wrapped canvas out. Pieces of scrunched up wadding that filled the gaps to ensure the painting didn’t move, fell to the floor. Ellie loosened the masking tape securing the wrapping then freed the canvas from its plastic shroud. Lastly, she removed the cardboard Madison had used to cover the artwork in order to reduce the amount of static between the bubble wrap and the painting.
“Oh my...” Ellie’s blue eyes widened. “This is even more incredible than I’d imagined. The technique is amazing, Madison. You’re very talented.” She pushed to her feet and propped the canvas against a nearby plinth to admire it further.
Madison couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face. “Thank you, Ms. Sanders. That means a lot to me.”
“Please, call me Ellie. Come.” Ellie lifted the artwork and strode to the plinth standing on its own in front of the first row of four white columns. She hung the canvas on the hook that had been strategically placed at exactly the right height. It was as if the plinth had been made for Madison’s painting. She stepped back to better examine the piece.
“I absolutely love the way you’ve captured the wheat waving in the breeze like an ocean of gold—Charity’s hair at one with the sheaves.” A soft sigh escaped Ellie’s lips. “It reminds me of when I was that age, frolicking through the Kansas wheat fields. Young and in love…” Her voice trailed off so that Madison could barely make out her words. There seemed to be a sadness in her voice, and Madison couldn’t help wondering if some Kansas boy had broken Ellie’s heart.
Charity elbowed Madison and whispered, “Can you believe it, Mom. Your artwork will be the first thing anyone attending this exhibition and ceremony will see. What an honor to be placed there.”
“Well, it’s entirely possible that Ellie has just hung the painting there to get a better look at the piece,” Madison whispered back.
Rob cleared his throat, drawing their attention. He motioned with his finger for Madison and Charity to follow him.
He stopped on the opposite side of the plinth where Madison’s painting currently hung and pointed.
Madison glanced up and her hand flew to her mouth. “A–are you serious?” A canvas print of her face, the size of a sheet of writing paper, hung there. Beneath it, a smaller canvas with her name printed on it and ‘Kansas’ in bold letters beneath.
Madison stepped away to the first row of four plinths to check the backs of the columns. Each had the same two canvases hanging on them with various artists’ faces, names, and the state they represented.
She felt so incredibly blessed. What had she done to deserve such a favorable placing? Nobody could miss her piece.
“Did you have something to do with this, Charity?” she asked her daughter. “Shoot a few prayers to heaven lately?”
Charity smiled. “Well, not specific prayers, but I do always pray for God’s blessings on your life and Dad’s. This is, no doubt, a result of those prayers, Mom. God is so good.”
It seemed He was. How had she not discovered that yet?
Sadness shadowed her joyous moment. If only Brody were here to see this. She’d love to call him and tell him. Maybe she’d try to later tonight.
After another night of Chinese takeout, Brody settled himself on the couch to watch some of his favorite sitcoms. Maybe the humor of the shows would brighten his week, although nothing he’d watched since Monday night had managed to do so yet. Eating the same food every night, watching TV on your own… Well, it just wasn’t any fun. It was lonely.
Of course, he was quite capable of cooking his own dinners, and he loved being creative in the kitchen, but what was the point without Madison by his side?
He flipped through the channels, nothing enticing him to watch.
Once Madison returned to Cottonwood Falls, could he go through with his threat for her not to come back if she went to New York? Maybe she’d decide to stay in New York with her parents? What if she kept his daughter there?
He should have followed her and demanded that Charity return to Cottonwood Falls with him.
On the couch beside him, his cell phone rang, breaking the silence that had clung to the walls of the house every night. He lifted it and glanced at the screen.
Madison.
Much as he wanted to hear her voice, he had nothing to say to her. She’d made her choice. Clearly she wasn’t as devoted to him or
their marriage vows as he’d thought.
He answered the call, then hung up without uttering a word, preventing Madison from even leaving a voicemail.
A few minutes later, the ringing started for the second time. Brody glanced at the screen once more.
Charity.
Probably Madison using their daughter’s phone in an attempt to trick him into taking her call. Well, he wouldn’t be caught for the fool.
This time he let the call go to voicemail.
A few minutes later, the phone rang for a third time. Brody snatched the phone and sprang to his feet, answering the call without looking. “Stop calling me. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Whoa, Brody… It’s me, Faith. And I haven’t called you in at least three weeks.”
Great! Now his sister would question him about who had pressed his buttons.
“Brody, what’s going on? Who don’t you want to talk to?”
Just as he thought.
Brody huffed and flopped onto the couch. He leaned his head into the backrest cushions and gazed up at the ceiling. “It’s nothing.”
“Hey, it’s me you’re talking to, remember?” Faith’s voice soothed. “You know you can talk to me anytime, about anything. I won’t judge you or preach to you. You’ll get sound advice if you confide in me—you know that.”
Brody sank lower in the couch, stretching his legs out. Faith would find out sooner or later anyway. And hadn’t she and Charles gone through a really rough patch two years ago?—so rough that his sister had driven through the night with her son from Colorado to Kansas. And yet, look at them now—you couldn’t find a more devoted and in love couple than Faith and Charles.
Yes, it had taken a serious car accident to make them realize that they still loved each other and wanted their marriage to work.
What will it take for you, Brody?
“Excuse me?” How had Faith known what he was thinking?
“Um, I didn’t say anything,” Faith said. “I’m still this side of the line, patiently waiting for you to tell me what’s wrong.”
Well if his sister hadn’t said anything, who had, because he’d heard those words as clearly as if someone had spoken them in his ear?
Faith claimed that God used her accident to bring them back together again. Was it possible for Him to save his marriage too? Only if He saved Brody Peterson first—of that Brody was certain—and most days, he felt so unworthy of being saved.
Maybe he should just start by talking to his sister. He didn’t have to delve into his deep, dark secrets.
Brody sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s Madison. She’s in New York with Charity. I’m afraid that I told her if she went, to never come back.”
Chapter Fourteen
“MOM, you look incredible tonight. I wish Dad could see you.”
Madison twisted in front of the cheval mirror, standing in a corner by the window of her hotel room, to get a good look at herself. She had chosen well with this embroidered, cap sleeve evening dress. And she adored the mauve color with nude underlay—gave the long figure-hugging gown a vintage feel.
She tucked a strand of hair, fallen out of the messy side bun, behind her ear and exhaled. Her heart ached not having Brody beside her tonight, looking dashingly handsome in a tuxedo, that cute ponytail of his hugging his collar like some dashing Renaissance artist.
Trying her best to ignore the heartache, she turned to Charity. “And you look simply lovely. Are you sure you don’t mind wearing your birthday dress again? We really could’ve gone out shopping this morning for something new.”
Charity rolled her eyes and flicked her long, strawberry-blond locks over her shoulder. “And put me through that misery all over again? Thanks, but no thanks, Mom. Once was enough. This dress is just fine.”
Madison laughed. “Oh honey, but one day soon you’re going to wake up to the pleasures of fashion. Then I won’t be able to keep you out of Emporia’s dress shops.”
“We should go, Mom. We don’t want to be late.”
“Yes. And I do want to check out the competition before the awards ceremony and the dinner starts.” Madison dabbed some of her favorite evening perfume on her pulse points, the exotic oriental notes reminding her so much of Brody. This was one of his favorite make up gifts.
She swallowed hard then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
What an incredible feeling it was to walk into The Gallery, adorned with fifty artworks, and see her painting first. The place was alive with women in swishing ball gowns—some sequined from top to bottom, sparkling brightly beneath the lights—and well-groomed, tuxedo-clad men. The buzz of chatter threatened to drown out the jazz music playing in the background.
Three hundred artists and patrons of the arts had turned up for this auspicious event. Hopefully the place was full enough to be able to avoid her parents for the night. Madison wasn’t in the mood for another of her mother’s “Brody should be here by your side” speeches.
Soon everyone filtered through to the Rainbow Room, backdropped by twinkling city lights and decorated with chandeliers, candles, and huge arrangements of white flowers. Up on the stage, a band played. How she loved the smooth, romantic sound of a saxophone.
Madison sat down at her table near the stage, feeling a little less confident about taking the win. All the finalists’ pieces were so creative. There was more than a handful of exceptional artworks. What a hard time the judges must’ve had choosing.
Charity sat in the seat on Madison’s right.
Madison greeted the rest of the artists and their partners seated around the table. The two seats beside Charity were yet to be occupied. She cast her gaze around the room, relieved to see both Ellie and Rob seated at tables on the opposite side of the large, revolving dancefloor. The last thing she wanted was to be seen as the contestant who got way too much favor from the organizers. For a moment she lost herself in the darker compass rose image on the wooden surface. It reminded Madison of an ancient treasure map.
Ellie had told her earlier that the winning artwork would be showcased later on that pivotal point of the dancefloor.
The young man in his mid-twenties seated beside Madison leaned forward. “Aren’t you the girl in the field?” Ignoring Madison, he directed his question past her to Charity.
Eyes lighting with interest, Charity nodded. Was that a blush tinting her daughter’s cheeks? So she’d started to notice boys... Madison would need to make sure that the boy, or rather the man next to her, didn’t take too much notice of her daughter. She recognized him from his photograph at the back of one of the plinths—a talented abstract artist from Louisiana—although she couldn’t recall his name. She knew these arty types—far too much passion for their own good, and more often than not, the canvas wasn’t a sufficient outlet for all those intense feelings. Probably half the reason she and Brody had married when she was so young. Well, she’d make certain that didn’t happen to their daughter. The Kansas field was one this guy sitting beside her was not going to play in.
She turned to him. “Yes, she is. I recently painted that portrait of my daughter for her sixteenth birthday.”
The guy shrank back, raising his brows. “Sixteen? Wow. I would’ve figured her for at least eighteen. She looks way more grown up than in the portrait. Great piece though. And great placement in the exhibition. They say that first impressions last.”
Tongue in cheek, Madison replied, “Yes they do.” Hopefully he’d realize he hadn’t created a very good first impression on Madison at all. Humph, hitting on her daughter like that. He could channel all of that interest and admiration into the Girl in a Field. Her girl in the field…definitely not.
Madison smiled at the elderly woman who had claimed the chair beside Charity. She reached out and touched the woman’s arm. “Georgia…right?”
“My name or my state?” The woman laughed. “Oh, I’ve gotten so much mileage out of that one tonight.” She held out a hand to Madison. “I’m Georgia from M
ontana.”
Madison smiled back at her. “We’re literally neighbors…give or take two states. “Madison, from—”
“Kansas. Girl in a Field. Everyone is raving about that portrait. The innocence of youth shining through every brushstroke is incredible. You have such talent.”
“Thank you. And so do you. I loved your rendition of the dancing Chippewa Cree. The expressions on those native Indians’ faces, the bright colors of the feathers…so realistic. An amazing piece and so worthy of being here.” In fact, that was one of the pieces Madison was worried about. Definitely a strong contender to win.
But none of that mattered now as Madison, Charity, and Georgia struck up a conversation. And a friendship.
They talked all the way through the three courses of dinner until Rob’s microphoned voice drew their attention to the stage as he introduced the panel of seven judges—four men, three women—one of whom was Ellie Sanders.
Madison whispered to Georgia, “I have to know… Does he call you Georgie?”
Georgia chuckled and nodded her silvery head. “How did you know?”
Madison placed a hand on her chest. “Because I’m Maddie.”
Looking oh-so-elegant in her long, sleeveless, sheath dress—the black a timeless classic, the beads giving the gown an extra touch of class—Ellie stepped up to the microphone. She smoothed a hand over her French twist. This was the Ellie Sanders the world knew.
“Thank you very much for the introductions, Robert. I trust everyone is having a good time tonight?” Her gaze roamed the room as cheers and whistles rose.
Ellie’s smile grew wider. “That’s wonderful. I know you’ve all been anxiously awaiting this moment, so without further ado, I’d like to announce the finalists and winner of the Art USA contest chosen by my esteemed colleagues and myself.”
Ellie opened the envelope handed to her by Rob. She ripped open the back and pulled out a postcard-sized paper. “In third place is…”
The band gave a drumroll.
“Cole Johnson with his bronze sculpture, ‘Golden Dreams’.” Ellie put her hands together. “Let’s hear it for our golden boy from the Golden State, California.”
Reclaiming Charity (The Potter's House Books Book 21) Page 12
