But as she looked into his blue eyes, she didn’t see Wes. She saw brown eyes with gold flecks. She saw the man who’d stolen her heart years ago. For a person who was expected to see visions of other worlds and colors and sights that most humans miss, she’d hoodwinked herself.
She’d left Scott. She’d denied her growing love for Bella and Michael because she was convinced that children, especially Scott’s, would weigh her down.
What she hadn’t realized was that they would make her life worth living.
“Wes, I don’t know what to say.”
His smile dropped off his face. His blue eyes clouded. “I was hoping your reply would be obvious.”
“You’re wonderful, Wes. You are, but my heart...”
“Belongs to someone else.”
“It does.”
“If that were true, then why isn’t he standing here next to you?”
“Because I’m a fool,” she replied, feeling her eyes sting and her heart grow heavy with sadness.
“We’re all fools, Isabelle. Certainly, I am. I should have realized that what I was feeling wasn’t only admiration.”
“I’m sorry, Wes.”
“Yeah.” He hugged her. “Isabelle, if it doesn’t work out, would you give me a second chance?”
A second chance. Didn’t everyone deserve another chance? Even her?
“I believe I would.”
He smiled again. “Then you take care.”
“Goodbye,” she said and headed out the door.
Another door. Leading to uncertainty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ISABELLE HAD ASKED her brother Ross to drive her home from Chicago since he was going home for the Easter weekend, as well.
When they reached her apartment, she thanked him profusely.
“I don’t mind at all, Isabelle. You would have done the same for me. You’ve always been there for all of us. Now it’s our turn to help you.”
Her tears were unexpected. “I love you, Ross.”
“I love you, too, sis.”
After dragging her bags to her apartment, she collapsed on the sofa.
Probably an adrenaline crash after the show and the offer from Malcolm, she told herself as she pulled an afghan over her legs.
She didn’t know what it was about making life decisions that caused this weariness, but all she could do was close her eyes and hope she would find answers in her sleep.
* * *
ON SATURDAY MORNING, Isabelle dressed for brunch in a soft pink dress and beige heels. Friday had passed in a blur of unpacking, laundry and dyeing Easter eggs for Bella and Michael.She’d bought Easter baskets for them at a children’s shop in Evanston not far from the studio.
As she drove through town and toward the lake over streets strewn with pink and white pear and crabapple blossoms, she felt as if she’d been away for ages, not just a few days. Yet in those few days the landscape of her life had blown up like it had been hit by a tornado.
All her life she’d wanted to know if she was good enough, if she had real talent. The reality of it hadn’t settled into her bones quite yet, but she liked her newfound confidence. It was a new feeling. A safe feeling.
For so long she’d been swimming in a riptide of uncertainty and doubt. And after all that had happened in Chicago, with Malcolm and with Wes, she knew she was back where she belonged. Indian Lake was paradise.
Without realizing it, she’d steered her car to the Lodges and not to Scott’s new house, as if her heart was her GPS.
She realized she might never work here again, and the idea made her sad. She’d had fun working for Edgar. Seeing her friends on holidays, planning events and dances for special occasions. It had been a good life she’d built; she just hadn’t always appreciated it.
She parked in the employee lot. Shadows of the last time she and Scott sat in his van in this very spot ghosted across her mind. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss.
She’d achieved her dreams and they exceeded her expectations. Yet, without Scott, the void inside her grew.
She turned back to the car and opened the door. The sun glinted off the window, and she blinked. Then she saw the reflection of the lily pads bobbing in the lake.
Mesmerized by the vision, she shut the door, turned and walked toward the beach and the tiny inlet where she and Scott had so often ventured.
She crouched down, peeking between the ripples of lake water and the lily pads. She remembered Scott’s words to her.
The magic was in you, Isabelle.
Her tears sprang anew, and through the iridescent veil they created across her field of vision, she saw a faerie. This one had green eyes like hers and long, thick caramel hair. Its wings were opalescent and shimmered brightly.
The faerie smiled at her.
In that split second, understanding shot straight to Isabelle’s heart. All these years, she’d been painting herself. Isabelle had been robbed of a normal childhood to care for her brothers and sisters. She’d taken out her resentment and anger on them, her mother and even herself. She’d convinced her adult self that she didn’t want a family or a home and that only her art could make her happy. She knew, now, that wasn’t true.
She was not just good, but accepted by the art world. Her work would sell, whether she painted faeries or continued to explore the depths of her talent. She would always paint; her art was as much a part of her as her arms and legs.
Something settled down in her heart. She’d been fluttering around the truth for years, not seeing reality. Isabelle was no longer frightened by the idea of a family. In fact, she was warmed by it. Over the past months, she’d come to realize how much her brothers and sisters had supported and loved her. They’d thanked her for being there when they were so young.
She realized that if she had to do it all over again, she wouldn’t change a thing.
She would walk the floor with her younger sisters and she would help her mother in every way she could—because she loved them.
She loved them.
And she loved Scott.
Scott, the wise one. The observant one. He’d seen all this time that the faeries she painted were depictions of the little girl inside her. Through her art, these fantasy self-portraits, she’d been healing her broken heart.
“I’ve been so blind,” she admonished herself as tears filled her eyes. The world she wanted had been at her fingertips all along.
Isabelle had taken the first steps into a world where her painting would be part of her life, but not all of it. Scott was her world.
CHAPTER THIRTY
ISABELLE HAD TO PARK A half a block away from Scott’s house because his driveway and the street were filled with cars she recognized. All their friends were here.
As she approached the house, she did a double take. When he’d moved in back in February, the place had seemed stark and uninviting, but this picture-perfect bungalow with blooming hyacinths, daffodils and forsythia surrounding the newly painted front porch was lovely.
The pear trees were in bloom and the grass was thick and emerald green. Scott had placed a huge stuffed Easter bunny on a chair on the front porch. As she lifted her hand to knock, she heard dozens of voices coming from inside.
She turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Hello?”
She heard children laughing and a cacophony of pots and pans, dishes and silverware.
“Hello?” She walked past the empty living room, noticing that blinds and curtains had been hung. The bookshelves were filled and there were two toy boxes under the front window. A kid-sized rocking chair sat next to a new stuffed club chair, and Easter decorations filled the mantle.
Bella came running out of the kitchen with Da
nny Sullivan on her heels. She was squealing with delight, holding a chocolate bunny over her head. The second she saw Isabelle, she stopped. Danny ran into her back.
“Bella!” he chided and took the Easter bunny out of her hand. Then he, too, looked at Isabelle. “Oh, hello, Miss Isabelle.”
Isabelle’s eyes remained on Bella. “Happy Easter.”
“Happy Easter.” Bella heaved a sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath. She walked straight over to Isabelle and threw her arms around her waist. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
Isabelle shifted the Easter baskets to her left hand and put her right hand on Bella’s head. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Dad read all about you in the newspaper this morning. He said you were famous. It said you were moving to New York.”
Bella lifted her face and smiled. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“It said that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, Bella.” Isabelle felt her heart bloom as she knelt beside the little girl. “I missed you too much. I would never move away from you.”
“Honest and truly?” Bella sniffed.
“Honest. I told you I would be here for Easter. And I brought something for you and for Michael.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Isabelle,” Scott said, stepping out of the kitchen as he dried his hands on a dish towel.
He wore black jeans and a spring yellow sweater with the sleeves pushed up. She’d never seen him look so handsome, not even in a tux. Yet his eyes were wary. He moved slowly toward her.
She didn’t blame him. She’d thrown him nothing but crumbs for too long. She’d come here to apologize. To ask forgiveness for her thoughtlessness. Her selfishness. Blind ambition. For all the times she’d hurt him. She’d come to ask him for a second chance. Or thirteenth. Whatever number it was, she owed him a lot.
Danny tugged on Scott’s arm. “Are we going to eat soon? Because my mom won’t let me have this bunny until after breakfast.”
Scott rubbed Danny’s thick, dark hair. “Fifteen minutes. Okay? You go tell your mom.”
Danny rushed back into the kitchen. “Mom! Miss Isabelle is here! Now we can eat.”
Isabelle watched Danny go. “You waited for me?”
He put his hands on Bella’s shoulders. “I was hoping...” He choked out the words. “I wasn’t sure.”
“I should have called, but I was so busy packing my things. Ross drove me home...”
“Wait. Back up. Packing? What are you talking about? I know congratulations are in order...”
Isabelle looked down at Bella. “Sweetie, could I talk to your dad for little bit? And would you take this basket to Michael?”
“Sure.” Bella took the baskets and darted out of the room.
Scott watched her leave and then turned back to Isabelle. She got the feeling he was taking his time to sort through his thoughts. “I’m confused. I thought everything went well for you at the show.”
“Better than well, Scott. I have commissioned paintings from a design firm and Malcolm, well, he’d be happy if I painted 24/7.”
“Then, that’s really great. That’s what you wanted.”
“It is.” Or I did. She moved close to him.
“The art section said you have an offer in New York. You told me once that if you got an opportunity like that, you’d be out of Indian Lake so fast—”
She put her fingers over his lips. “The old me said that.”
“What’s changed?”
“Everything has, Scott. Everything. You’ve changed. I’ve changed. Our lives are so...”
“Yeah, different, I know. You said that.”
“They are marvelous and wonderful and I don’t want them to be separate anymore.”
He was speechless. She knew because he stared at her like he was trying to figure her out. She had to admit, she was probably not the easiest person in the world to deal with.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“But I have children now. In fact, I’m thinking about adopting them permanently.”
“Oh, Scott. I’m so happy for you. It’s the right decision.”
“It is for me.”
“It is for them, too,” she said.
“I thought that was a deal breaker for you,” he said tentatively, his eyes floating over her face. “You told me...”
“I said a lot of things, Scott. I was pretty mixed up, and I confess I had my priorities badly jumbled. I don’t think that anymore.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about the adoption for a while now, but then I figured that since you’d fallen in love with Wes, and—”
“I’m not in love with Wes,” she interrupted.
He pulled up short. “Sure you are.”
“No, Scott. I’m not. I’m in love with you.”
“But he’s what you always wanted.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want a life with you. And the kids. And my art. I came here today to ask you if you think you could fit all of it in.”
He put his palm on her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. He peered into her eyes. “You blow me away, you know that, right? I read that article in the Tribune and I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“It’s not going to be easy, you know. Being married to an impassioned artist.”
“Married?” His head jerked back and his eyes filled with surprise.
“Yeah,” she replied decisively.
“Who said anything about being married?” he asked with an impish grin.
“Scott...”
He slid his hand into hers and said, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You didn’t answer me,” she said.
He held up his forefinger. “You’re so impatient. Come on.”
Scott led her through the dining room, where the table was covered in a linen cloth with pretty pink plates and glasses. An Easter bunny sat in the middle of the table.
“Cute,” she said.
“I stole the idea from one of your Easter brunches at the Lodges years ago.”
“You remembered that?”
They went through the kitchen where Mrs. Beabots was dishing out baked pears with Theresa. Violet and Sadie waved to her as she walked through.
“Hi, everybody! Happy Easter,” Isabelle said as Scott pulled her toward the back porch.
“Hi,” they chimed in unison, continuing their work.
That was odd, she thought. Usually, they’d want to hug her. She could get lost in the kitchen talking for hours. Hmm.
They went out to the backyard where her brothers, Ross, Chris and Dylan, were playing bean bag toss with Trent, Luke, Timmy and Danny. Annie and Bella were sitting on lawn chairs with Cate, Sarah and Connie.
“Hi, Mom! Hi, guys!”
They all waved, but went back to their conversations.
Okay. This is really strange. They all knew about her success in Chicago; the newspapers and her texts to her family had relayed the news, but they seemed more engrossed in their own concerns.
“Wow. This yard is really big,” Isabelle said. “And gorgeous.”
The long narrow yard was surrounded on all three sides with blooming daffodils, tulips and hyacinths under tall spruce trees. A flowering pink crabapple tree filled the south corner.
“Yeah. I’ve been saving up for a riding lawn mower.
It’s a killer to mow.”
Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. “And what is that?” She pointed to a small house at the very back of the property, complete with flower boxes in the windows.
“It used to be a potting shed. The owner was really into the garden. As you can see. In the winter it was hard to envision, but I took Cate’s word for it since she knew the woman who lived here before she died.”
“So, are you going to make it into a playhouse for the kids?”
“No,” he said, opening the door and letting her enter first.
Isabelle stepped inside. The sun poured down from above. “What in the world?” She looked up at the skylight, which had obviously been installed recently.
“It’s an artist’s studio now,” he said shutting the door and taking her into his arms. “Isabelle. Marry me? Stay with me forever. I don’t think I could be apart from you ever again. I promise I’ll never do anything without our mutual consent.”
Isabelle put her arms around his neck and smiled. “So, I’m guessing that since I asked first, your answer is a yes?”
“Yes.” He chuckled.
“Then I concur. Yes.”
“We’re mutually agreed?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I have one last thing.” He bent down and turned over a clay pot that was sitting next to the door. He withdrew a black velvet box.
“Scott?” For the first time she saw that look she’d longed to see in his eyes—there was nothing and no one in the world more important to him than her.
Or perhaps it had been there all along, and she just hadn’t noticed or understood.
He held the ring out to her. “Luke and Trent said I should take you to the jeweler’s so you can pick out what you wanted. But I thought you might like a surprise.”
Isabelle held out her hand so that he could slide the pretty round cut diamond in the simple antique setting onto her finger. “It’s beautiful. Just what I’d pick.”
Family of His Own Page 24
