by Lowe, Fiona
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Look, I just want to know if she’s okay.”
“You broke her heart and now you want to check she’s okay? She’s not going to thank you for that.”
He plowed his hand through his hair. “Mom, I just think that if I talked to her, knew she was doing okay then I could get back on track—”
“No.” He heard the hiss of his mother sucking her breath in through her teeth. “This isn’t about you, Finn, unless...”
The pause sounded ominous. “Unless what?”
“Do you love her?”
No. Panic simmered. “Look, Mom, I know you think you’re trying to help but this is nothing about being in love and everything to do with moving forward.”
“Finn, did Annika tell you she loved you?”
His breath shuddered out of him and he hesitated. “Yes, but—”
“And you told her you didn’t love her, so by rights she is the one needing to do all the moving forward, not you. By the sheer fact you weren’t invested in the relationship you have nothing to move forward from.”
Indignation poured through him. “I was damn well invested. We had an agreement for the summer, a contract and she was the one who broke if off early.”
“She isn’t a business plan, Finnegan.”
People count, not just the bottom line. His words came back to him as did Annika’s raised brows. Finn, that isn’t a relationship! It’s a business arrangement.
Sweat broke out on his brow and he heard himself shouting. “Of course Annika isn’t a business plan. A BP is clear and concise with goals and an endpoint. Annika’s messy and demanding, in my face about Dad and anything else she thinks I should be doing. And she can’t even walk a straight line without falling over.”
“And yet you want to call her up?”
He heard a smile in his mother’s voice and he let out a ragged breath. “Yes.” It was all so damn confusing.
“Finn, relationships aren’t like work, they’re messy and unpredictable.”
“Exactly. Which is why I don’t do them.”
“Except this time you’ve done one without even realizing.”
He loosened his tie which was suddenly choking him. What was it with his family trying to push him toward her? Dude, you called your mother. “That’s nonsense.”
Kathleen continued, “Do thoughts of Annika’s arrive unannounced when you’re in meetings?”
He didn’t want to answer that but fortunately he didn’t have to because Kathleen kept talking. “How’s your appetite?”
Lousy. “I never eat much when I’m busy.”
“Okay, well tell me this. At the end of each day do you fall into bed with a sense of achievement and fulfillment or do you have a general feeling that something intangible is missing in your life?”
His mouth dried. Hell, could his mother suddenly see inside his head? He wanted to deny everything. Tell his mother she was way off course and he opened his mouth to do so.
Anything emotional scares you to death.
His stomach rolled and the floor felt unsteady under his feet. He sank into his chair. God, Annika was right. His heart pounded, sweat poured off him and he was having trouble breathing. For every relationship that he’d ended or had ended for him, he’d never felt like this. Annika knew him better than he knew himself. “Mom.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed hard. “I love her.”
The moment he’d uttered the words his panic subsided. He loved her. Loved the way she made him laugh, the infuriating way she made him own up to his foibles, and the way she wrapped herself around him at night and listened to him talk even when she was exhausted and not interested in the different types of cardboard generated from recycled paper.
“Of course you love her, darling. We’ve all known it for weeks.” Kathleen sighed. “Now you need to find her and tell her.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Bride loves invitations. Now need sample kit 4 casual outdoor wedding in August. Bride in Milwaukee for F2F meet. Can U come to us for Thanksgiving? Max and I would love 2 see you! Nicole x
Send Bride’s number for me 2 contact. Thanksgiv would b great. Can I bring Ax? Anni x
Annika put down her phone and smiled. The thought of going back to Whitetail no longer daunted her. Whitetail was finding its niche and she was finding hers. She picked up a paint palette. An enormous canvas dominated the small light-filled space she’d rented and the cacophony of colors that swirled, from devastating black to the hope of nature’s green, told the story of what she’d seen on her trip and her interpretation of it. She had no clue how it would be received by the gallery that was expecting a traditional Dawn, Day and Dusk series, but the most important thing was that she’d done it. Almost done it. She still had a ways to go before it was completed but she’d make the gallery’s hanging date. Just.
She checked her sketches—the ones she’d made on golden sandy beaches, the ones she’d drawn next to nuclear power plants and Chicago’s Deep Tunnel, and a dozen other places around Lake Michigan and Lake Superior. She’d spent three weeks of September alone with only a dog and her sketch pad for company, and she’d found a sort of peace. It wasn’t perfect but it was better than what she’d had in years. Ironically, a big part of the new Annika was due to Finn. The man who couldn’t love her had been the reason she had her art back and money in the bank. Whitetail was slowly growing her wedding invitation business and her darling brother had “backup” work for her if she ever needed it.
The only thing missing in her life was Finn. She ached for him but without love between them she knew they had nothing, which was why she’d changed her phone and cut her ties with all the Callahans. As hard as that was, it was the only way she knew how to move on. She’d finally confessed all to Nicole on a late-night apology phone call halfway through her trip, and although she doubted Finn would contact her she’d asked Nicole not to give him her number. Cold turkey was the only way she’d survive and grow into this new and more rounded life of hers. She rolled her shoulders back, swiped marine blue onto her pallet and scraped it across the canvas in a big, bold stroke.
* * *
“Any news?” Kathleen selected a miniature éclair from the ornate cake stand that was positioned between her and Finn on the table at Palmer House.
“None.” No one would tell Finn where Annika was. He’d spoken to her brother who’d offered to sell him an apartment on Lake Michigan but refused to tell him where his sister was. He’d tracked down her parents through their company called Third Age Travel and spoken to them in Fiji. “Anni is safe and well but that’s all we can say.”
They’d hung up before he could utter another word. Nicole had sounded like she really wanted to tell him but had said she was sorry she couldn’t. He’d even trawled through the Weddings That WOW website looking for her phone number, but every inquiry was directed through Nicole. “She doesn’t want to be found.”
He sipped the Earl Grey tea and wished it had a shot of something stronger in it. He’d spent his vacation searching for Annika but short of doing a line search of Wisconsin he didn’t know what else to do. “It’s ironic, don’t you think, that when I finally fall in love and realize it, I’ve screwed it up before I’ve started.”
He leaned back from the table, finding the refined atmosphere stifling. The sports bar Se
an had dragged him out to the other night had at least been noisy, making it hard to think.
“Don’t give up just yet.” Kathleen pulled an envelope out of her handbag. “Geoffrey gets invited to just about every gallery opening in Illinois, Wisconsin and Indiana. He brought over a folder of them the other night and asked me if I wanted to attend any of them. I thought I’d go to this one.”
She slid the rectangular invitation across the table.
Milwaukee’s Waterways Gallery presents a retrospective—Living Lakes.
Annika’s name was in the list of contributing artists.
* * *
Annika’s stomach churned as she walked the short distance from the parking garage to the Waterways Gallery. Agitation pummeled her and it had taken her three attempts to park the car. If she’d thought watching the gallery men carry Act Now from her studio into their truck was hard, she realized it had nothing on walking into the gallery and seeing it hung. Seeing other people looking at it and listening to them commenting on it.
She gulped in a breath. She really should have let Axel come with her. He at least could have parked the car straight, but as much as she loved the support of her brother she knew she had to face down her demons of opening night on her own. It was all part of the new Annika. She stopped outside the gallery’s huge and heavy glass doors. You can do this. Rolling back her shoulders, and lifting her head, she pushed all her weight on the large silver handle. Her shoulder slammed into the glass with a thud.
Breathe. The sign says Pull.
She rubbed her shoulder. Oh, God, just getting inside the door was a challenge. This time she pulled and stepped inside.
Her throat tightened. There were more people than she’d expected. Muted music played quietly and some of the black-clad waitstaff carried trays filled with glasses of champagne and assorted drinks, while others held platters of tiny canapés which they offered to the crowd of attendees.
“Drink?”
“Yes please.” She gave the waiter a weak smile and managed to pick up a glass of champagne without knocking over the other glasses. It was a start.
She picked up a program and started at painting one, planning to work methodically around the gallery, especially given that Act Now was number sixteen. She had no rush to see it or hear what was being said about it. All that would come soon enough. There were a great variety of works—some ink and wash, watercolors, fabric art and of course, oils. Most of the scenes depicted either tranquil lake scenes or were season specific. There were quite a few lighthouses and she loved every one of them.
She rounded the partition and came face-to-face with Act Now. They’d hung it on the main wall and lit it so that it almost seemed three-dimensional, reaching out to the observer and demanding their attention. It dominated the space and dwarfed the other paintings around it. She knew it would either be loved or hated and there wouldn’t be any other emotion in between.
“Annika.”
She turned around to see Richard, the gallery owner, walking toward her smiling. “I’ve got great news. Someone’s put in an offer for the painting. In fact they’ve offered more than the asking price.”
Annika stared at him in disbelief. “I’m stunned.”
He laughed and then immediately sobered. “You shouldn’t be. I’ve had one critic describe it as ‘broad strokes of heartache leaching from the canvas,’ and another as ‘harsh and questioning yet purveying hope.’ I think you’ll want to be cutting out tomorrow’s reviews and keeping them for your scrapbook.”
She nodded but she knew differently. Of course she was thrilled that this painting was being received so well but good or bad, she was never again defining herself by one or two people’s opinions.
“We’re also very honored tonight to have one of the curators from the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art and I’d like to introduce you to him. He was quite taken with Act Now.”
Annika’s legs trembled and she sat down on the banquette behind her. “Do you normally get a curator come to your openings?”
Richard smiled. “Not often, but if they’re in the area they call in.” He turned, quickly scanning the room and then frowned. “I can’t see him at the moment but you stay here and I’ll go find him.”
“Okay.” It was all a bit surreal and she stood up again, accepted another glass of champagne and hugged herself tight. It only takes one painting, Annika.
Kathleen had been right.
“It’s amazing, Annika.”
The deep and melodic voice that was an intrinsic part of her—a voice she’d recognize anywhere—sounded behind her.
Finn. Her heart shuddered and her hand gripped her glass so hard she was amazed it didn’t shatter. Without knowing exactly how she got all her body parts to cooperate, she turned around slowly and made herself breathe.
He stood in front of her in a charcoal-gray tailored suit that fitted him perfectly. His curls were tamed and his white shirt and lake-blue tie lightened his eyes to the color of rich, dark chocolate. He was easily the most handsome man in the room and the most handsome man she’d ever met, but it was the lines around his eyes that she noticed most. They hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. The time he’d stood in the cabin and told her he couldn’t love her. I don’t do emotional connections.
He smiled at her. “Nothing at all like your pretty lighthouses but totally awe-inspiring.”
She steeled her heart. “I wasn’t in a pretty mood when I painted it.”
Finn had rehearsed in his head exactly what he was going to say but from the moment he’d glimpsed Annika, every word had vacated his brain. All his senses were hungry for her, so much so that he barely heard her reply. She was wearing her long hair down and it flowed across her shoulders in a shimmer of white and gold, brushing against her simple, black sheath dress. Her only accessory was a necklace of tiny seed pearls which caressed her throat. Her mouth was as red and lush as ever, only her face was thinner, but it was her eyes that held him riveted. Behind the wariness there was something new—he couldn’t put his finger on it exactly but whatever it was it suited her. She looked elegant and slightly remote and a part of him wished she was wearing her misshapen, paint-stained T-shirt or was sleep-rumpled in one of his shirts.
He’d seen her painting earlier—chaos merging with calm—and it had gripped him by the throat. Now as she stood in front of it with her commanding height and the square set of her shoulders, she was having the same effect. She held herself like an Amazon warrior—his warrior. The one who’d fought for him even though he’d been too blind to see it.
A rush of love so strong surged through him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He moved toward her, desperate to touch her, but she took a long drink from her glass and then fixed him with an uncompromising stare.
“Why are you here, Finn?”
Any thoughts of her falling straight into his arms got hammered on the spot and it disconcerted him. “I wanted to see you. See your art.”
“To gloat? I’ll save you the trouble.” Her face hardened. “In front of all these people I acknowledge that you were right. I needed to get out and live my life my way. I needed to paint. Act Now is the first step.”
He started to sweat. “You really think I’d come here to gloat?”
“I recall some of your last words to me were ‘I won’t let you live your life through me.’ Given that, I really don’t kno
w what to think, Finn. Is there a reason that I should?”
A few people looked toward them and heads started turning. Finn lowered his voice but he couldn’t quite keep an edge of anxiety from seeping into it. “Annika, can we please go and talk somewhere more private?”
She sucked in her lips and shook her head. “There’s nothing I have to say to you that can’t be said here.”
He tugged on his collar. “I promise you, I didn’t come here to gloat. In fact I’m thrilled you’re painting again.” He smiled at her expecting to see some softening in her stance when he told her the news. “So happy in fact that I’ve bought Act Now.”
Her face drained of color. “No!”
No? That wasn’t part of the script in his head.
This time the crowd fell silent and all heads snapped their way with curiosity and interest written clear on their faces.
Damn it, he had to get her into a private space.
With a laugh he said to the crowd, “And people think artists can’t haggle over price.” Sliding his hand under Annika’s elbow he continued talking, “Come on, Ms. Jacobson, let’s go and talk privately and find a figure we can agree on.”
She gave him a look filled with such utter loathing that he seriously thought she’d prefer to walk on hot coals than to walk with him, but she slowly put her glass down on a tray and took a step. As they walked away, he heard someone in the crowd saying, “Who is that?”
Ushering her into the first door they came to, they were instantly enveloped by the smell of warm wool. He’d found the cloakroom. He quickly closed the door behind him and stood in front of it in case she tried to leave before he’d said what he needed to say. He no longer cared about the script. She’d told him she loved him. Now he loved her so he went straight to the point. “Annika, please listen to me. I love you.”
