Page 27 of Salvation
I continue to watch her as she greets a few more people, and then she turns toward me, walking my way with long strides.
“Ivy?” she asks, cocking a brow once she’s close enough. I can’t get a good read on her. Her voice is cool—almost icy—but her smile is warm.
Standing, I stick out my hand to shake hers, keeping a polite smile on my face as I say, “I am.”
The woman’s smile grows wider, melting away any lingering iciness in her demeanor.
“I thought so. You’re about the only person here I don’t know. I figured the chances were high. I’m Lily, by the way.” She takes my hand with a firm grip. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I say. Gesturing to the booth I’d been occupying, I ask, “Would you like to sit?”
“Absolutely. Let me just place my order.”
She takes off in the direction of the counter, and I sit back down, nerves suddenly taking over my stomach. It’s silly for me to be nervous. I have paintings hanging in museums, yet this painting for the community center feels bigger than all of them. I can’t explain it, but I want to do it. Maybe it’s because it actually feels important, and at some point, the others started to feel like checking off a box that I was supposed to in order to be “successful.”
In no time, Lily comes back with a coffee in hand and slides into the booth.
“So, Ivy, I hope you don’t mind, but after speaking on the phone, I looked up some of your work. It was all amazing.”
A blush heats my cheeks. My work has been praised by reviewers worldwide, yet this one compliment from a woman I met only moments ago feels more sincere than any of those reviews. Maybe it’s because she actually meets my eyes when she says it.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Lily takes a sip of her coffee before setting the cup down on the table.
“So,” she says, a professional mask slipping onto her face. “Before we talk about the project. Tell me a little about yourself. I hear you are originally from here.”
I try not to squirm in my seat. I knew this would be a topic of discussion. Lily made it clear on the phone that they are lookingfor someone with ties to Benton Falls to complete the painting, and while I haven’t lived here in a long time, it’s the only place I can ever remember being happy. I just didn’t expect my skin to feel so tight. My past here is more complicated than evenIknew.
Forcing a smile, I say, “I did—until I was sixteen. We moved after that, but I always loved it here.”
“What was your favorite part about living here?”
The question makes me want to laugh—or maybe cry—because I can’t tell her it’s the boy with blue eyes and a smile that used to feel like home, so instead I say, “The people.”
She studies me a moment—like she can hear the lie on my lips—but thankfully, she doesn’t push it.
“Yeah. The people are pretty special.”
There’s a glimmer in her eye that makes me wonder what rumors she’s heard about me, but to her credit, she doesn’t bring them up.
“So, Ivy, as I mentioned on the phone, we are looking for someone to paint a mural on the side of the new community building that represents the people of Benton Falls. Is that something you feel like you can do?”
I take a deep breath and blow it out, already having my answer ready even though it reveals a lot more about me than I’m usually willing to give.
“When I was younger, before I came to live in Benton Falls, my mom used to tell me stories about this place. She made it sound magical, but it’s the people I remember her talking about the most—how some made it feel like home. For a small part of my life, there were people here who did that for me, too. I don’t really have that anymore, but it’s still a feeling I would love to capture in paint. So, to answer your question—yeah, I think it’s something I can do.”
The corner of Lily’s mouth tilts up into a smile. “Good answer because I think so, too.”
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After my meeting with Lily, I decide to walk through town, anything to avoid going back home. Benton Falls has grown since my last visit, with several new shops added around the square. It’s no tourist town by any means, but it’s growing.
I’m window shopping, meandering down the sidewalk in my own world, when I hear my name called. Spinning, I find Charles running across the street, a briefcase in his hand and a smile on his face. A sign outside reads Benton Falls Christian Church, and I have the sudden urge to run. Instead, I paste on a polite smile and wait for him to catch up.
Now that I’ve had time to process that he is my grandmother’s brother, I notice several more similarities this time than I did the last. The same fullness to their lips. The same downward tilt of their eyes. The same slope of their nose. And while I understand that Charles is not my grandmother, after everything I’ve learned, I can’t help but be wary.
Charles reaches the other side of the street with surprising agility for a man his age and smiles down at me.
