Through the Glass

by Lisa J. Hobman

  Being here, surrounded by all this wonderful art used to thrill Felicity. The buzz of finding a new and unknown talent used to drive her. But hearing Julian talk about the new talent he had discovered and how this woman painted with such passion had made her long to paint again. All this talk of forgeries, break-ins, and criminal activity on her doorstep tarnished everything.

  Being so far away from everything she loved and knew was difficult, and she had felt like a fish out of water ever since arriving in New York. It was such an amazing city and this had been the opportunity of a lifetime, but all she could think about was Jim and going home. She wanted to be with him. He had loved her once. Maybe if she returned to the UK she could at least go to visit him and try to make him see that she had changed?

  There must have been something deep within him, some part of him that still wanted her. She just hoped that it wasn’t only a physical pull that still remained for him. She wanted his heart to still desire her, too. The sex they had experienced together had always been great. The trust to share their desires and fantasies was something she had cherished until she had been convinced that sex and love weren’t enough. But now she knew that career, money, and power weren’t all they were made out to be either. Especially if there was no one to go home to at the end of the day.

  She had decided, however, that whatever happened now, returning to the UK was the best plan. This was not the type of business you could be a part of if your heart wasn’t in it. And her heart was, sadly, no longer in it. Her heart had only one place it wanted to be and that was with Jim.

  Chapter 24

  April 2012 - Three Years and Two Months After the Break-up

  Felicity sat in the airport lounge clutching the little case that held her tickets and passport. She felt sick to the stomach just as she did every single time she flew. Ridiculous considering the very nature of her job. International Art Dealer – pah! Laughable. This time was worse, however, as she knew that she had to speak to Franco whilst in the UK and inform him of the fraudulent goings on in the New York gallery. She hadn’t made Lia privy to this snippet of information, as she didn’t want to cause her any further worry. But Felicity now had enough evidence to point the finger at former gallery Manager, Chester Withers.

  Her palms were sweating, and her heart was presumably choreographing a new version of Riverdance in her chest judging by its erratic beat. She glanced around at the eclectic mix of people surrounding her: Business people in suits conversing seriously on cell phones; parents and young children playing eye spy games to try and fend off the boredom of waiting; couples saying their heart felt goodbyes.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about Jim. She was going to be in Glasgow for the exhibition, so she was going to make time to travel up and see him again or at least to ask him to meet her. There were so many things she needed to say that couldn’t be said over the phone. Apologies needed to be made in person. She realised now that he was who she wanted. Despite their last encounter. She had to fight for him, prove to him that she had changed. And if it was too late, which she suspected it was, well…at least he would know the truth and she would have the opportunity for closure knowing that she had done everything she possibly could.

  This was going to be her second to last trip back to the UK if things went as she planned. New York was not for her. She had once thought it offered her exactly the life she craved. But hearing about this fantastic new mysterious female artist had made her yearn for her brushes and canvas. She missed her friends. For goodness sake, she even missed her mum.

  “Room for a little one?” A familiar voice broke her from her reverie. Looking up she smiled into the stunning face of Lia Cole.

  “What are you doing here?!” Felicity jumped up and pulled her colleague into a death-grip hug.

  “I should be asking you the same. I went by your hotel to check up on you, and they said you had already checked out. Why are you here so damned early?”

  “Nerves, I guess. I always do this. I’m always scared that I’ll realise I’ve forgotten something and have to go back. So…if I get here early, I have plenty of time.” Felicity’s face heated at the admission.

  Lia laughed. “Hmmm, that’s some twisted logic you got there, missy.”

  Felicity shrugged. “Yes, it is, but it works for me. So why are you checking up on me?”

  “Well, you sounded kinda worked up about the flight and about seeing Jim, so I thought I’d come keep you company for couple hours while you waited. Give you a little moral support.” Lia smiled sweetly. “I was kinda thinking that you’d be in your hotel room, but seeing as you’re here…so am I.” She held out her hands in a ta daaaa gesture.

  “Oh, that’s so lovely. Thank you so much. I could use a friend to keep my mind occupied. I do so hate flying. Come and sit.” Felicity moved over to the sofa again.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t I go and get you something to drink? Calm your nerves a little?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s a little early and I know it’s maybe a little too much information, but I tend to get sick before a flight. So it wouldn’t work anyway.”

  “Sure it would. And you won’t get sick because I’m here to take your mind off of things.”

  Flick pondered on the thought of alcohol on her already churning stomach. “I really don’t think—”

  “Don’t forget you have to clear security yet, and then you’ll be sitting around for a while or looking around the boutiques before you board. Anything you drink now will relax you for a little while but will have gotten out of your system way before that.”

  Felicity scrunched her nose, “Ahhh, I just don’t feel—”

  “Look, trust me, I’m a New Yorker.” Lia tipped her head to the side and framed her face with her fingers playfully.

  “Oh, okay. Just one then, I suppose.”

  Lia clapped her hands theatrically and headed for the bar.

  Felicity sat and nervously stared up at the screen displaying flights and departure times. Flight nine forty-two was going to depart right on time. She had been sitting here for what had felt like a decade when in actual fact it had only been an hour or so. She had foregone her first class ticket and the sumptuous lounge that went with it out of guilt—a decision she now regretted—knowing she would be flying back here only to tie up loose ends before handing in her resignation and flying home again permanently.

  Permanently. Her heart skipped once again.

  “There you go. Jack and coke. With ice and a twist, seeing as we’re celebrating.”

  Felicity took the glass from Lia and took a large gulp. “What are we celebrating?” Felicity knew the answer.

  Lia rolled her bright green eyes. “Your future with your ex of course! Even though I think you’re totally crazy.”

  Hearing those words made Felicity’s stomach do somersaults as the butterflies took flight again. She took another large gulp and shivered as the bitter alcohol hit her throat. “I know…I just… I love him. I always have. So many things have gone wrong for us. But I need to at least try to get him back.”

  Lia’s bottom lip protruded in a mock sulk. “There are so many hot guys in New York who would just adore you and your British accent. New York guys are the best. You just haven’t given them a chance. Take that Vitale guy.” She fanned herself. “He was so hot. Although I don’t suppose he could be classed as a New Yorker…but anyways, I wouldn’t have turned him down!”

  “Yes, but that would just be lust and I want—”

  Lia interrupted rolling her eyes again. “Love, yada, yada…love…blah blah. I get it.” She smiled and leaning over she squeezed Felicity’s hand. “Don’t worry. It will all be over soon.”

  Felicity huffed and scrunched her nose. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.” She gulped her drink again. A flush of nervous energy rolled over her and her stomach lurched. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick, Lia.”

  “You know what I mean…and oh em gee, you’re such a baby!” Lia la
ughed. “Look, you go and…do whatever you need to do in the restroom. You can leave your stuff with me. Try to hold onto your breakfast though, okay? It’s not good to fly on an empty stomach.”

  “I’m not sure that’s going to happen.” Felicity stood and her stomach rolled again.

  Without another word, she ran to the nearest bathroom, her hand covering her mouth. Luckily, the ladies room was empty. She made it into a cubicle and hurled. Alcohol plus nerves = a very bad combination. Sweating and panting, she sat back onto the hard, tiled floor. Her head pounded. This was one of the most severe flight panics yet, hardly surprising under the circumstances. I really should take a fear of flying course. The cubicle began spinning. This was one severe panic attack. Lurching forward, she vomited again as her head swam.

  ~~~~~

  April 2012 – Three Years and Two Months After the Break-up

  “This place looks absolutely amazing, Jules. I can’t thank you enough.” Jim hugged his friend and ally. The exhibition, Through the Glass, was due to open in two night’s time. Felicity would land at Heathrow later today and then get a connecting flight up to Edinburgh where she would stay overnight. From there she would pick up the hire car that had been arranged for her and drive to Glasgow.

  Jim couldn’t hide his excitement. There was also a little trepidation. What if his plan didn’t work? He had hurt her deeply when he last saw her. Then there had been the letter from her father urging him on. She had to still want him. She had to.

  “Jim, I’m honoured to have helped you, mate. I really hope this works. You two are just meant to be together.” Julian squeezed Jim’s shoulder.

  Jim held out his hand. “Oh god, look Jules. I’m shaking. I’m so fucking nervous. Her flight will be boarding about now. She’ll be here in a day! What the fuck will I do if she slaps me and walks away for good?” His voice wavered as he almost pleaded with Julian to tell him it would all work out.

  Julian turned to face his friend and placed a hand firmly on each shoulder. “Look, mate, you are taking a risk, admittedly. But think about it. Her dad says she has never stopped loving you. And who knows a woman better than her dad, eh?”

  Jim pulled in a long, deep, steadying breath. “Aye…aye…she has to be happy. That’s all I want. And look at this place. She has to love this.” He gestured around the room at Felicity’s artwork as it hung there in all its beautiful splendour.

  “Now, Jim. I want you to go back to the hotel. Take a long soak in the tub, chill out for a bit. Maybe even sleep because by the look of you, you haven’t done much of that over the past couple of months since this whole plan was borne. You know Jasper is safe with your neighbour, so you’ve only to concentrate on picking up your suit from the hotel reception and awaiting the arrival of your gorgeous, talented girl. And Jim?”

  “Aye?” Jim focused on Julian’s words like his life depended on it. Because at this moment in time it really did.

  “Trim your fucking beard, man! You look like the wild man of fucking Borneo!” Julian’s face lit up with humour.

  Flight nine four two was scheduled to land at four tomorrow morning, UK time. Jim checked his watch: Five thirty. So it would be twelve thirty there. Right…shower, food, beard, and bed. Not necessarily in that order…well…apart from bed.

  The next morning, Jim awoke and checked his watch again: nine fifteen. Great! She should be on her way north by now. He did a little happy dance on the way to his rather luxurious en-suite bathroom in the fancy hotel that Julian had insisted on. “Mate, you can’t have make-up sex in a dump.” He had informed Jim. Quite right. Felicity deserved better.

  Staring at his reflection, he sniggered as Jules’ words came back to him. His beard had really gotten long and fuzzy. He would’ve looked at home as the fourth member of ZZ Top. And it was only fair seeing as Julian had shaved his off to look the part. It was the least Jim could do. He set about trimming it back into a goatee. Pleased with the result he switched on the shower, and when steam filled the room, he stepped in, allowing his muscles to relax as the water encased him in a cocoon of warmth.

  He played over in his mind what he would say to Flick when she stepped through the doors of the exhibition. Would she like what he had called it? Through the Glass had been the obvious, choice considering the subject matter and the circumstances through which it came about. It reminded him of how she saw the world. She saw beauty in everything. She observed each vista she beheld as if it were already a framed masterpiece. He had always admired her ability to take a view through the glass on a train or car journey and turn into something transcendent. There was something poetic and fitting about the name.

  Naming the artist Flick MacDuff was the next sticking point. The reasons for the choice were threefold. One, it wasn’t her name and never had been, and so if word had been somehow leaked, she would hopefully see is at a striking coincidence. Two, it had a certain ring to it…like it always had to Jim, and three…he wanted the name to be his future. Their future.

  Once out of the shower, Jim couldn’t help but smile at his reflection. His eyes looked brighter already. He felt that familiar nervous energy course through his veins at the thought of seeing her and seeing her reaction to her exhibition. His heart flipped. The grin on the face of his reflection made him laugh.

  He pointed at the mirror. “You, mate, are a complete fucking nutcase!” He shook his head and wrapped a towel around his waist. Drying his shaggy hair with another towel, he made his way through to the bedroom. He picked up his phone to check the time…again. He noticed that in the space of the twenty or so minutes he had been in the shower he’d had three missed calls all from Julian. He had forgotten he’d set it to silent the night before to ensure he got a good night’s sleep. Couldn’t see Flick with baggy, tired eyes, now could he? Sensing the urgency behind the need to ring him three times in quick succession, Jim’s heart sank. Oh great, I bet the caterer has bloody let us down. I knew he sounded flaky. He huffed and dialled Julian, preparing himself for the news.

  Julian answered after only one ring. “Jim? Oh God, Jim. Have you seen? Oh God, please tell me it’s not true.” His words came over the line in a blurred rush. A cold shiver settled over Jim at the distress in his voice.

  “Julian, slow down. What the fuck is wrong?” Jim’s heart rate speeded up. Images of vandals breaking into the gallery and trashing the exhibition flew through his mind like a terrible amateur movie.

  The sound of Julian’s deep intake of breath vibrated through the phone, then a sniff followed by muffled noises. “Jim…please just turn on the news. Channel one.”

  “Oh shit…that sounds ominous…okay. I’ll call you back.” Jim’s stomach rolled. He just knew that the gallery had burned down or been flooded or struck by lightning…shit. Reluctantly, he flicked the on button of the TV.

  “…reports coming in claim that the pilot made a distress call stating that two engines had failed but unfortunately that contact was lost briefly after. Rescue teams were dispatched immediately but when the first of these arrived flight nine four two from New York had already broken up. It’s reported that…at this time there are no survivors…”

  Jim sat, open mouthed, staring at the images floating across the screen in front of him as he felt the colour drain from his face. A shiver travelled the length of his spine. Then numbness set in.

  Chapter 25

  Jim sat in the drawing room of Felicity’s family home, holding Penelope’s hand. It was the day of the exhibition opening. He just couldn’t face it. Not with Flick gone. And anyway, Penelope needed him. Ironic really, since he was the last person she’d needed for the last fourteen years. He had come to her as soon as the news had sunk in. The older woman’s pallor was that of a corpse. Usually well made-up, Penelope sat, pale and shaking beside him as she sobbed. It was all too much to bear.

  He couldn’t even be bothered to wipe his own tears away. He simply let them fall. The numbness had given way to anger, which had given way to a deep sadness and guil
t. If only I hadn’t set this whole thing up. If only I had just left her to her new life. But what was the point of if only?

  Felicity was gone.

  No survivors. That was the news that neither he, nor Penelope, nor Felicity’s friends wanted to hear but it was what they got anyway. The beautiful, talented, passionate girl had gone, forever.

  And forever was a hell of a long time.

  “I’ll…I’ll make more tea.” Penelope stood in a zombie-like stupor and looked at her hands for a second as if she had forgotten her reason for standing. Confusion played on her features.

  Jim stood and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Penny, let me…please.” He squeezed lightly to bring her back to Earth. She had clearly drifted off momentarily, maybe to a world where Flick still existed. As if his small act of kindness had pierced her heart, she let out an anguished cry and collapsed into him.

  “Oh, James, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her tears soaked through the fabric of his shirt as he held onto her to stop her from falling.

  “Hey…shhh. It’s okay. Don’t apologise. You’ve nothing to apologise for.” He stroked the distraught woman’s hair.

  “No, you’re wrong. You are wrong, James.” She raised her voice angrily shouting through her tears. “I caused this. This is my fault. All of this. Edgar was right.” Her body convulsed and she clutched onto his shirt.

  “No…no, Penny…no, you’re not to blame. I am. I should’ve just let her get on with her life. She didn’t need me confusing matters. She didn’t need her paintings on display and me trying to put some pathetic surprise together to win her back.”

  The woman straightened up and looked directly into his eyes. “Jim, listen to me. If I had just let her be…let you both be…let her really love you…she would never have gone. She would still be here with us…with you.” She visibly shook as she spoke. Her voice had taken on a calm and collected tone.

  She called me Jim. He cupped her cheek. “Oh, Penny. What’s the use, eh? We can’t change things if we beat ourselves up. We have to forget blame. Please, can we do that?”