Page 68 of The Singing Trees
“You’ve been busy,” he said, looking at the paintings hanging on every wall of the living room. “I’m no expert, but I think you’re ready for museums.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she said, trying to stomp on her emotions as if they were a fire spreading over a yard of leaves. If only Sharon Maxwell agreed with him.
Forcing herself to stay in the moment, she gave him a tour of her work, showing her progression from last summer to now. He took a long time, looking at each piece, and his interest meant the world to her.
“I thought I was getting somewhere, but Sharon definitely planted a seed of doubt.” Annalisa told him what her teacher had said, and how Annalisa had probably ruined any chance of ever showing her work at Sharon’s show or any reputable gallery in town. She’d not told anyone about her eruption at the studio, not even Nonna, as she was too ashamed.
As she had expected, telling him made her feel so much better.
“You are getting somewhere, Annalisa. I see it.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Some people can work their whole lives and not achieve greatness. There has to be a natural talent, stuff that can’t be taught.” She couldn’t believe she was admitting this out loud to someone. “What if I don’t have that kind of talent? Anyway, just the struggles of an artist. I haven’t done much since Christmas. Who knew there was such a thing as painter’s block?”
What she didn’t say mattered most of all, but she couldn’t dare cross that line. The question she wondered more than any other was: What if she’d given up their love for nothing?
“Don’t even go down that road,” he said. “Not only are you the most dedicated person I’ve ever met, but you do have talent. Everyone knows it.” He spun around the room. “Look at all these. Don’t question yourself now. You’ve come too far.” His unflagging support was a bucket of love dumped over her head, and she didn’t know what to do with it.
Thomas pointed out the window to the balcony and beyond. “There it is, the Leaning Tower of Treeza.”
“That’s it,” Annalisa said, sliding open the door and feeling the cold air whipping in, cooling off the fire inside her core.
He took a long look at the chimes she’d made from the pieces in Walt’s shop and then cast his eyes over the view she’d drawn for him in the letter she’d sent last summer. “I would sit in my bunk before lights out and look at your drawing, imagining you and this view. Makes me so happy to actually see it.”
If he only knew that she’d sat out here and thought of him, too, ached for him, really. And here he was, and she was so damn confused.
He rested his hands on the railing as Annalisa buttoned up her jacket. “Wherever I end up going,” he said, “I’ll be thinking of you standing out here, maybe thinking about me sometimes.”
“Of course I’ll be thinking of you, silly,” she said, almost too quickly.Because I love you,she thought.
Attempting to keep her emotions at bay, she pointed southwest. “That would be Louisiana, somewhere out there.” She moved her finger to the right and noticed its shake. “Then Vietnam.”
Thomas grabbed her finger and brought her arm down. “Don’t be afraid.”
For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, and she had no idea what she would have done. Or perhaps she did know. She’d welcome it, bathe in it, but then one kiss would lead to another, and then they’d be right back to last year, back to that night in the waiting room of the hospital where he’d slugged it out with his father while Emma crept back from nearly dying down the hall. If only they lived in a world without consequences.
Despite all the terrible that would come, she would have risked it all just to connect with him so intimately, to taste his lips and to finally even tell him how much she cared. How nice it would be to let it all go for a minute, to eschew responsibility and give in to her desire.
Instead of kissing her, he let her hand go and frowned. “I need to get going so I can catch that two o’clock bus.”
In an instant, the wind seemed to die, and the chimes stopped singing. Even her heart stopped fluttering. Though he was respecting the boundaries she’d drawn, she’d hoped he would break them. That was not who he was, though, and his chivalrous act made her want him all the more.
The moment was gone, and her mind returned to his destination. By the time she was having dinner the next night, he’d be breathing Vietnamese air.
Fighting off tears that would have frozen on her cheeks, she put a hand on his strong arm. “You be a warrior, okay? Be strong and don’t let your guard down. That’s how you come home.” She wished she could tell him that she’d be waiting on him, but she couldn’t.
“I’ll be okay over there; don’t worry.”
What an impossible notion, to not worry.
They hugged hard, and she whispered a prayer up through those hazy clouds to God, asking that Thomas come home safe and sound. No matter what might become of them, she desperately wanted to lay eyes on him after the war and know that he’d made it back home safely. Letting go of all rationality, she wondered if maybe they could give each other a chance after the war.
They returned to casual conversation as they left the apartment, and she gave him a ride to the bus station. Navigating the icy parking lot, she followed him to buy a ticket and then to his waiting bus. They’d made it just in time. Part of her wished they could talk more, that maybe he’d take a later bus, but today wasn’t about her. It was about Thomas boarding a plane en route to one of the most dangerous places on earth.
After another hug, he climbed the steps with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He stopped at the top and turned. “Do big things, Anna.”
She didn’t know what kind of words of encouragement to offer in reply. Her big things didn’t feel so big anymore, considering his destination. Finally, she said, “You come home now.”
“I will,” he promised. His tightened cheeks attempted to hide his feelings.
