Page 30 of Dare to Fall

“Is that any way to greet to your mother?” she asked, her tone firm.

“I said hello. What else do you want from me?” A haggard laugh escaped my lips, and I immediately regretted it.

“You sound like you’ve been run over by a truck.”

“Funny you mention that. It’s exactly how I feel.” I ground the beans to the desired size and packed them into the portafilter, desperate to get it going.

“Aren’t you a little too old to stay out all night partying?”

My patience was wearing thin. Lisa Walker had never been a hard mother, but she didn’t take any shit from anyone—especially not her children. She expected excellence from everyone around her and accepted nothing less than perfection from herself as well. Although, she was much more capable of achieving it than anyone else I knew—with the exception of my father, of course. They made the perfect match. Together, they built an empire from absolutely nothing. Both were raised by single parents in some of the poorest neighborhoods in Georgia. Now, my mother was the president of one of the largest universities in the country, and my father made billions through his real estate development company.

While I admired their work ethic, I didn’t appreciate being told what to do, especially when I was thirty-five years old and more than capable of learning from my own mistakes. Though I had to admit, with the pounding in my head, she wasn’t wrong. Maybe I was too old to party as hard as I did last night.

“Thanks for reminding me of my dwindling youth, Mother. It’s much appreciated.” The strong scent of freshly brewed espresso wafted in the air. The pain in my head immediately lessened as though my body knew it was about to receive exactly what it needed.

My mother let out a breathy sigh. “I was calling to discuss your father.”

“What about him?” I asked.

“Well, have you thought any more about what we talked about the other day? You promised me you would speak to him, and he told me he hasn’t heard from you yet.” There was a hint of desperation in her tone. My mother always handled life stressors with ease and grace, probably because her childhood forced her to endure a level of adversity that most would never know. But something was different about her today.

“I’ve been a little preoccupied with what I have going on right now. The university art exhibit is a week away. And I have some other things in the works that are requiring a lot of my attention,” I said as I tenderly sat down in the leather club chair by the window, hot espresso mug in my hand.

“I think you might have a lot more time on your hands than you let on, son, if you are able to go out on a Thursday night.”

I rolled my eyes at that. “Mother, did you call to chastise me or to talk about something else?”

“I called to see if you had considered discussing the passing of your father’s business from him to you. As I told you a few days ago, his health has been declining for some time now, and I don’t think you realize just how poor his condition is.” Her voice lowered as if she was trying to whisper. “But you know your father. He will continue to work until he knows his legacy has been passed on to one of his sons. I don’t know how much longer he can keep this up without something happening to him.”

I was so tired of it all. For years, there had always been some kind of ploy to convince me to take over the Walker Corporation. They didn’t understand that walking in my father’s footsteps would prevent me from doing the one thing that fueled my soul. Creating art wasn’t just something that I did; it was who I was. Without it, I would be adrift. And it wasn’t lost on me that it would be even more difficult to find a partner in this life if I were to take over the family business. I’d been searching for that missing piece in my life for so long, and I just wasn’t ready to give up on it yet.

My body tensed because I knew I wasn’t about to give her the answer she was looking for, but I had to be honest. “Mother, I understand that you’re worried about him. But that has always beenhisdream. It’s not fair that you both are asking me to step away fromminebecause you don’t understand it. I never once questioned either of your decisions to follow what you wanted to do, despite it sometimes causing difficulties for Garrett and me.”

“What do you—" she interrupted.

“I’m not finished,” I said. “There will never come a time when I amreadyto take over the corporation. It’s not that I am trying to wait you two out and be a rebellious son. I’ve paved my own path and luckily found something that I love doing. And I happen to be quite successful at it, if you or father ever bothered to pay attention.”

Glancing at my favorite corner of the loft, where all of my canvases were spread out, I swelled with pride as I looked at the pieces I created. Some were leaning against the exposed brick walls, and others were mounted on wooden easels, still in preparation stages. I was continuously growing with each passing year, not only in technique, but in developing my own personal style. Now was not the time for me to stray from the progress I’d made.

“So, I’m sorry, Mother. But I am not going to walk away from all the work I’ve put into making this dream a reality. Father will have to find another way to make something work for him. But I have to go. There’s a lot of work I need to get done today.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. We tried our best to raise both you boys to value family above all else, but it seems that we took a misstep somewhere. I just hope you don’t regret your decision one day.”

“Mother—"

“Don’t. You’ve said what you wanted to say, and I have my answer. I hope your exhibit goes well.” The line went dead.

I was right. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, and I knew whatever his condition was, it was bad enough for her to worry. But it wasn’t my problem to fix for them. They had forged their own paths, and it was time for me to continue on my own, with or without their approval.

I placed the espresso cup onto the small side table that had been crafted out of a large fallen oak tree. It was one of my favorite specialty pieces. The natural curvature of the trunk and its light coloring had brought a different texture to the space.

Walking over to the canvases, I mulled over which one to finish first. There wasn’t much left to do, just some finishing touches. The largest one had shifted into something completely different than I had originally intended. It’s bold, rich coloring made it intriguing. The slight outlines of a feminine face peered out into the world.

The longer I stared at it, the features of the face revealed themselves more. And it suddenly dawned on me that those features were not something I’d conjured in my head. No. They were the beautiful and sharp features of the woman I couldn’t get out of my mind.

Eva Barnes.

16

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