Page 47 of Sweet Escape at Bayside
He glanced at Violet. She had a pensive look in her eyes. His gaze drifted over her shoulder to a life-size sculpture of a male torso. The shoulders were angled and the clavicle protruded, as if the model had been preparing to throw a ball. The arms stopped just above the biceps. The stomach was neither muscular nor overly soft, though clearly defined with a hint of ribs on the sides and a fold of skin just above the belly button, accentuating the slight twist of the body. The sculpture ended just above the knees. Nestled between thick thighs and a nest of pubic hair were nominal genitals. The definition was incredible.
He walked around the table and found the backside to be just as beautifully done. The shoulder blades and lats were flexed, as if caught in motion. The spine carved a slim river down the body to the curve of a fleshy buttocks. But it was the rough patch on the left flank that had him breathing harder.
Violet came to his side and put her hand on the same spot on his back.
“You put my scar on another man’s body?”
She shrugged one shoulder and said, “Lots of other men’s bodies, actually. Every torso I make has your mark.”
He was so deeply touched, he didn’t know what to say. He looked around the studio and said, “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. Remember when I told you that no one but Justin knows that I sculpt? He delivers them to galleries and lists them for sale by an anonymous artist. They pay him, and we donate the money.” She smiled and said, “I had no idea SHINE was yours. A lot of the money goes there. I’m donating this one, along with some pottery, to the suicide-awareness rally. Justin will drop it off so they won’t know it’s mine. They’ll auction off all the donations, and the money will be used to help local schools with their suicide-awareness programs.”
He put his arms around her and kissed her. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I came back. I hope you don’t think it’s creepy. It started as a way to feel closer to you. Eventually my skills got better, and I was no longer creatingyouwith every piece, but puttingusinto them.”
“Violet, this is a remarkable piece of art. Why are you keeping it a secret?”
“It feels private.” She ran her fingers over the scar on the back of the statue. “You taught me how to do this, and I treasure those memories.”
It was another hidden part of herself, but he couldn’t say he blamed her. What they had then—and now—was definitely worth treasuring.
“So do I, babe.” He lowered his lips to hers in a deep, loving kiss. “Is this Justin?” He cringed inwardly and said, “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“It’s not Justin, but I have sculpted him. It’s just a guy I met when I was out one night. Anonymous, remember? I can’t sculpt the people I’m closest to.”
“But you did. You sculpted Justin, and that’s okay, Vi. I’m glad he was there for you so you didn’t have to deal with everything on your ownallthe time.”
“Is that what Brindle did for you? Helped you deal with it?” She lowered her gaze.
He lifted her chin and said, “Have you been worrying about her?”
“No. You said she was only afriend. I just wondered if she helped you in the same way Justin helped me.”
“I never drew her naked or slept with her, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said with a smile. “She’s pregnant and wasn’t sure how to handle it. I showed her around Paris, and we commiserated about our complicated love lives. You’d like her. She’s impetuous, pushy, and stubborn as a mule, but she’s also kind, funny, and honest.”
“I’d like to meet her one day, to thank her for telling you to accept Lizza’s offer.”
She took his hand and led him to the other table. She began unwrapping the plastic from the other large piece he’d noticed and said, “I have something else I want to show you. This is the first piece I’ve made that isn’t a male torso.”
She gathered the plastic and set it aside, revealing a sculpture of a child sitting, leaning back on one hand, holding the other up. Though her hands and fingers weren’t yet defined, her arms, legs, and feet were. Her hair was beautifully sculpted with adorable waves and ringlets that hung just past her shoulder. Her face was shaped, but there were no features.
“I’m afraid to do her face, and that bulk of clay by her leg will be her cat,” Violet said. “She loved that cat so much. She’s going to be holding a blue butterfly. I’m going to soak fabric in slip to create her dress.” Slip was like liquid clay, and though the fabric would burn off in the kiln, the slip would retain the form.
He put his hand on her back and said, “Who is this?”
“Erin Wilk.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I spent a lot of time with her at the hospital and at her house. She was Joni’s age when she died last year from a brain tumor.”
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” He kissed her temple, holding her tight against his side.
“She was the sweetest little girl. She loved butterflies and her cat, Igor. She knew she was dying, and she had the most amazing outlook. She said after she went up to heaven she’d come back as a blue butterfly and visit me. It’s so freaking unfair that kids suffer like that when there are jerks in the world who literallydeserveto suffer and they get off scot-free.”
He gathered her in his arms and held her as tears slipped from her eyes. She held on tight, eventually giving in to her grief. Her body shook, her tears soaking his shirt, as if she’d been holding them in since she’d lost her little friend.
“It’s okay, babe. Let it out. I’ve got you.”
He had no idea how long he held her, but it was long enough for the sun to disappear and the evening to spill in through the glass ceiling. He wanted to take away all her sadness and all her pain, and he needed to figure out a way that being together wouldn’t cause her more. But soon he’d go away, and he could never ask her to leave her sister or the family they’d created with their friends. That worry was too big for tonight, and he pushed it down deep.
