Driftwood Dreams

by T. I. Lowe

  “I checked out Woodstock while I was in New York. I went there to gather inspiration for the fine arts camp. Even the light poles in that town are works of art.”

  “Well, that’s probably the best place for inspiration then. I certainly find it to be.” Opal nodded her head, sending the curls on a springy bounce.

  “Straight up. I could live there.” As the words left his mouth, August noticed the blonde beauty standing beside him. She wore a black dress that reminded him of the lining inside an expensive jewelry box, which went perfectly with the significant piece draped around her neck. Seeing that necklace on Josie stirred a deep feeling in his chest.

  “You’re part of the art exhibit, I see.” His eyes flicked from the necklace that the dress showcased exquisitely before settling on her delicate-blue eyes. The light shade always reminded him of the softer-hued sea glass woven into the necklace.

  Josie’s hand reached up and touched the necklace, but she looked uncertain. “You’d like to move back to New York?”

  No form of greeting, but August liked how Josie’s need for an answer to her question outweighed pleasantries. Clearing his throat, he murmured, “Un lieu magique comme Woodstock ne peut être apprécié que pendant les visites, sinon elle perdrait son charme.”

  The worry slipped from her eyes as the corners crinkled with amusement. “Now you’re just showing off again.”

  Receiving the desired effect of putting her at ease, he translated, “A magical place such as Woodstock can only be appreciated during visits, otherwise it would lose its charm.” He leaned closer, catching hints of Josie’s coconut perfume, or perhaps it was her shampoo. Whatever is was, she smelled of summer and sunshine, and he added it to his list of favorite scents. He stole a few more whiffs of the pleasant fragrance before adding, “Also, I’m not leaving, so there’s no getting rid of me.”

  Josie automatically leaned away, but he didn’t miss the slight shiver dancing across her bare shoulders. “Is that a threat?” Her voice held a light edge of tease.

  “It’s whatever you want it to be, Jo,” August teased her in return. He noticed Opal and Lincoln slipping away during their playful exchange. Opal gave him a discreet thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd. He turned his attention to Josie. “Thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot.”

  “I love you . . .” Josie did her own double take from her word folly. Her cheeks grew to such a lovely pink shade that he wanted to re-create it with paint pigment. “Art! I meant art! I love art!”

  As tempting as it was to tease Josie on that, August was smart enough to know when to give her some breathing room. This was one of those times. She’d flee if he went there, and he needed her to see his paintings first.

  That will probably send her running off Cinderella-style all on its own.

  “I love this gallery too,” Josie added after a few beats. “I noticed Carter changed the sign out front.”

  August scanned the space with its weathered wood floors and cream-colored paneled walls. The walls were bare except for his night’s showing on the indigo showcase wall. “It used to be a family beach house until Carter had it renovated into Sunset Studio. He changed the name to Sunset Studio and Gallery once I came on board.”

  “So it was his idea to combine music and art?” Josie tilted her head toward the door, causing a lock of blonde waves to slip across her cheek.

  August reached out and tucked the hair behind her shoulder, not thinking anything of it, but she obviously did. Her face warmed in color again. He smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah. Carter was all about it as soon as I agreed to become his business partner here. He and his wife, Dominica, teach music lessons in the back rooms.”

  “So you’re really staying?” Josie skimmed her fingers over the banister leading to the second floor that now housed supply rooms instead of bedrooms. She sounded genuinely interested in his answer, going as far as meeting his eyes.

  “I’m here to stay, Jo,” August answered her honestly and straightforwardly, wanting her to have no confusion on the matter. “I’m ready to lay down some roots.” He wanted to add that he needed her to be a part of his new root system in Sunset Cove, but something told him to keep that part to himself for the time being.

  He brushed off the trepidation as best as he could and began leading her over to the indigo wall displaying some of the paintings he had created during his time in France.

  Two French countryside landscapes, a realist painting of a French baker, and a black-and-white of the Eiffel Tower. The fifth painting was a cityscape of Belleville. The area captured on canvas was considered Paris’s Chinatown and the buildings were vividly dressed in graffiti. It had also caught Josie’s attention, just as he had expected it to.

  “How fun . . .” Josie walked closer and leaned in to study the image. She gave him a sideways glance before going back to admiring the piece. “You captured others’ artwork in your own art piece. That’s quite impressive.”

  “I didn’t want to steal someone else’s art, so I redesigned all of the graffiti.” August shrugged.

  “I can’t believe you’re trying to make light of the fact that you managed to create art inside of art. That’s unbecoming of you, Mr. Bradford.” Josie lifted a pale eyebrow in a dainty fashion August didn’t realize she was capable of pulling off.

  It occurred to him then that Josie Slater was in her element. When surrounded by art, the confident woman she normally kept hidden away behind baggy T-shirts, worn jeans, and downcast eyes slipped out. Standing in this gallery, filled with art and promises of more, she shone. It reminded him of one of the pieces he’d created that week. The canvas was one of three that had kept him so busy the last several days that he had not been able to catch one moment with her.

  Six years had passed and had revealed that he missed Josie Slater. Only a few days had passed since he’d seen her again, and they revealed a hole in his life that it seemed only she could fill. Time hadn’t dimmed those youthful affections he carried in his heart for her. It had only intensified them.

  August kept Josie by his side for the remainder of the event, watching her transformation as it unfolded like a rose in bloom. Petal by petal, the true Josie emerged and ended up entertaining him with her vast knowledge of art. She might not have gone to college or traveled abroad to study international art, but she was well-versed in that world. It was another clue that she’d not completely abandoned her dreams.

  As the crowd grew thin and the five France-inspired paintings disappeared out the door with their new owners, August sensed Josie preparing herself to leave. “I have some art projects I’d love to get your opinion on before you go.” He tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. The hidden paintings in the back room were practically begging to be discovered, but they were for Josie’s viewing only.

  “Umm . . . I just need to find Opal.” Her eyes darted around.

  He pretended not to hear her as a few guests approached him to offer their congratulations. Once the group departed, August began discreetly leading Josie toward the back of the gallery. One step, a handshake for a departing guest. Another step to the refreshment table to swipe them each a crab cake. A few more over to the beverage table for a small cup of punch to wash the food down. All the while, his eyes were on his goal.

  As they reached the rear section of the gallery, now empty of guests, Josie mumbled, “I don’t see Opal and Lincoln anywhere.”

  August leaned close and admitted something that could ruin the evening. “I told them to leave.”

  Josie’s head jolted up. “What? Why would you do that?”

  “Couldn’t chance you making a run for it.” He lifted his eyebrows, daring her to deny it.

  “I-I . . . Wh-why?” The stuttering began breaking the eloquence she’d spoken in for the last hour.

  “All through school, you’d run anytime I got too close.” He took a step toward her and she took a step back, proving his point.

  “N-no!”

  “Fibb
ing is unbecoming of you, Miss Slater.” August tsked, eliminating a little more space between them and the surprise awaiting.

  “August . . .”

  He held out his hands, palms up. “Just check out the paintings before you run. That’s all I ask.”

  She combed her fingers through her wispy blonde hair and looked around, apparently seeking an escape route.

  “I’m out!” Carter spoke, catching their attention. “August, you’re locking up, right?”

  “Yeah, man. Thanks again for tonight.” August offered a fist bump.

  “It was my honor. See you at the camp tomorrow?” Carter lifted an eyebrow.

  August glanced at Josie briefly. “If my plan fails, you’ll see me. But if I can pull this off, I’ll see you at church on Sunday instead.”

  Carter let out a raucous laugh, his voice just as deep and gravelly as August’s tone. “Josie, good luck!”

  “Hey, shouldn’t you be wishing me the luck?” August placed his palm against his chest and feigned offense.

  Carter and August set out to volley sarcastic jabs at each other, all in good-hearted fun, as August took advantage of the distraction to take the last several steps to the back room. Its normal use was for music lessons, but that night it held the private art showing.

  Josie scooted closer and looked between the bickering men before interrupting. “I think maybe I’m just gonna walk home . . .”

  “No!” Both men objected in unison as they turned their full attention to the shy beauty fidgeting before them.

  “I’m just messin’ with ole August. Seriously, Josie, you’ll want to check out these art pieces. They’re right up your alley from what I’ve gathered in the past week.” Carter winked, looking like he’d just let her in on a secret.

  To August’s amazement, it worked like a charm. Curiosity began replacing her anxious expression. He glanced at Carter over Josie’s head and mouthed, “Thank you.” Carter responded with a chin jerk and a smirk before he headed for the exit.

  August wanted Josie to feel comfortable, so before the event began earlier, he made sure the lights were fully up and the window blinds open, even going as far as opening the windows so the nearby ocean breeze could offer more easiness.

  Front and center, the three canvases were set up to grab her attention as soon as she entered. From the small gasp Josie released, August knew he’d pulled it off.

  “I took a class focused entirely on pop art,” he admitted, going for a conversational nonchalance.

  Josie looked over her shoulder to where he remained by the door, casually leaning against the frame with his hands placed in the pockets of his dark trousers. He wanted to give her space, but she seemed hesitant to move away from him. He freed one hand and motioned for her to go explore the canvases displayed on wrought iron stands.

  Taking a deep breath, August tried to lower his usual voluminous tone and began speaking. “This art movement made it to the United States during the late fifties, but the art world tried protesting. Called it kitschy and not true art, but people began falling in love with the abstract expression this style allowed. It became so popular that the traditionalists had to eat their words.”

  August continued to spout off random history about pop art Josie probably already knew, watching as she stood before the painting that he’d thought of earlier when he’d noticed her shining. Though he was a naturally cool fellow, sweat began to collect against his skin. He unfastened another button of his gray dress shirt and tried to calm down.

  What if she hates them? What if she thinks I’m a creeper?

  Josie’s face remained neutral as she gazed at the side profile of her own face lifted toward the sun. Where each sunray touched her skin and hair, a bold streak of color began spreading like an unfinished rainbow. The bolts of color were only half-complete, as if the sun wasn’t allowed to fully shine on her just yet, but he could feel it moving in that direction and hoped she could feel it too.

  Finally she stood taller and turned to look at him, a smile gathering on her lips. “Wow . . .”

  He took her one-word response as a good sign. Sighing in relief, August returned the smile but said nothing. He nodded to the next canvas and Josie understood this as her cue to continue her picture walk.

  The canvas in the middle was fashioned in the block style that was iconic in pop art. The canvas was divided into four blocks. Each one held a handprint. The two larger ones were diagonal from each other, top right and bottom left, and were only outlined, with no color. The slightly smaller handprints were on vividly colored backgrounds, top left and bottom right.

  “I guess this is why Opal insisted on tracing my hand this week . . .” Josie raised her right hand and fit it to the vivid red palm, a perfect match.

  The same stirring from earlier tightened his chest as he watched Josie move her hand and fit it against his unpainted one in the left corner.

  “Your hand?” Josie guessed, looking over her shoulder at him. August confirmed with a subtle nod.

  When he didn’t elaborate, Josie moved on to the last piece. It was more in the freestyle technique that he recalled she used to favor creating. From the way her eyes lit up as she moved her finger over the painted part of the canvas with the thick black lines and splashes of bright color, it was still her favorite. Unfinished words exploded in the BAM style all over the canvas.

  DR____

  BO____

  SH____

  After an unrushed amount of time passed, with Josie going back and forth between the three paintings, she finally circled around and stood behind them.

  “They’re only half-complete . . . What are you advertising in these pieces?” Her face was high in color, not from embarrassment or shyness, but clearly from excitement.

  August recognized the look. It was the same one that overtook him each time a new project was on the horizon. The anticipation of picking up a paintbrush and marrying it with paint in order to create art on a blank canvas was one of the most exhilarating sensations he’d ever experienced. It was all he could do to tamp down the elation wanting to bubble out of him over the eagerness of experiencing that with Josie for the first time.

  He chose to stay rooted by the door and smiled at her reference to pop art being used a good bit in advertising and logo designs. “I want to sell you on the idea of partnering with me.” He tipped his head to the incomplete canvases. “They need to be completed.”

  She wrapped her arms around her long torso, shoulders deflating a bit. “You don’t need any help.”

  “I suppose you’re right. For six years I’ve focused on nothing but my craft.” He finally pushed off the doorframe and took a step inside the room. “It’s been an epic journey, but a lonely one. I’m tired of the loneliness, Jo.”

  Josie blinked several times and nodded her head. He wasn’t sure if she was agreeing to complete the paintings with him or if she understood the depth of his loneliness. He hoped she was agreeing and understanding, because he desperately needed to remedy both.

  Clearing her throat, Josie spoke in the polished tone she had used earlier in the evening. “What exactly does this partnership entail?”

  The tension that had gathered all night in his shoulders finally released as he let out another held breath. “Well, all partnerships should have a probation period to make sure the associates can mesh well.”

  “That’s sound business practice. Okay.” She edged out from behind the stands and glanced around as if on a search for something. “If you have a safe place to keep my necklace so I don’t get paint on it, we can get started.”

  He held in the chuckle wanting to slip out as he glanced at his wristwatch. Eleven o’clock was too late to start. “I must commend you, Miss Slater, on your enthusiasm, but I’d rather relocate this project to my studio. We can get started in the morning.”

  The business facade she was playing around with slipped away as she gaped at him. “You already have a studio space?”

  “Yes.” He couldn�
�t contain the wry smile over the simple word space. Wait until you see it, he mused.

  “You haven’t even been back two weeks.”

  “I’m not a man to waste time. God has made us a lot of promises, but time isn’t one of them. If there’s something I want, I get to it.” After a moment of silence, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “How about you give me your number so I can text you directions to the studio?”

  Josie programmed it in and handed the phone back. She inspected the canvases one last time before following August out. He could already sense her hesitance on leaving the art incomplete.

  Good.

  It was exactly the point he was secretly making to her. The subliminal message he’d begun on those canvases had already taken root. August might have been a get-things-done kind of guy, but he also had an abundance of patience he didn’t mind using when necessary. He knew one thing for certain.

  Josie Slater would be worth it.

  7

  In the same way mythical sea creatures always eluded explorers on the hunt, so did any rest elude Josie that Friday night. She rolled toward the open window, causing a creak to whisper from the brass bed frame Opal had given her. It was such a comfortable bed, but it wasn’t doing her a bit of good at the moment. As the sultry breeze danced with the sheer curtains, she timed her breaths to the harmony of the ocean waves rolling in just outside. Most nights the lullaby was melodious enough to lull her to sleep, or at least soothing enough to settle her down, but the eagerness to have a paintbrush in her hand prevented the enchantment of the ocean from casting its usual tranquil spell.

  A friend has asked for help. Nothing more, Josie told herself for the hundredth time as she fluffed her pillow and settled down once again. Life had served her a gluttonous amount of nos, so it didn’t take a degree in psychology to get why she was unable to ever utter the two-letter word to anyone else. It certainly wasn’t a hardship to agree to help August Bradford. As appealing as it was to spend time with him, the tourist season was gearing up and the diner would soon be the only thing she could focus on. So she would enjoy the unexpected blessing with the three paintings and be thankful that August was generous enough to allow her to be part of such a unique project.