Page 46 of Jeremy
Ireach up and squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”
“Thedot means it’s been sold, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,actually, Penelope just told me they’ve all been sold, except one that I didn’toffer for sale. And I need to talk to you about that.”
Asmall crowd builds around us, so we move to the next painting, a more serenelandscape of the lake. He wheels me to a small bench, then takes a seat sowe’re side by side. “You need to talk to me about a painting?”
“Yeah,because it’s sort of…a painting of you.”
Heblinks and a small smile leaps to his lips. “You painted me?”
“Idid. And I should’ve gotten your permission to display it, but we weren’treally talking then. I’m not going to offer it for sale unless you’re okay withit.”
Heturns his head, looking around the room for the painting. “It’s the featuredpiece, in the center of the next room,” I explain.
It’salmost funny how quickly he weaves us in and out of people to get to thepainting, but my stomach is one big knot. It isn’t a smiling photograph of himwe’re heading toward, but an emotional snapshot of the first time our worldscrossed.
There’squite a crowd gathered around, but he cuts through it like butter, until we’restanding in front of his face.
Allthe feelings of that day come rushing back, the humiliation and pain, anger,and regret. That’s how I know it’s good. Maybe not to everyone, but to me. Itmakes me feel, puts me right back into that place and time.
Itseems like hours pass while he studies it without a sound. The people around ushave plenty to say, commenting on everything from technique and use of color,to the emotions it evokes. So far, no one has noticed the subject of the pieceis standing near them.
Hisvoice cracks when he finally speaks. “When did you paint this?”
Itdoesn’t occur to me not to answer honestly. “The day after I spent the night atyour house.”
Hedoesn’t comment further, until Penelope approaches us. “Have you reconsidered?”
“Sellit,” he says.
Myheart throbs as I realize he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. It makes sense, Isuppose. No one likes being brought face to face with their own pain andsuffering, which shines clearly from his likeness.
Lookingup at Penelope, I nod, and she flashes a smile, rushing away.
“I’llbe right back,” Jeremy says, and walks away before I can answer.
So,that went well.
Whenhe returns, we move around the room, mingling and talking with the patrons. Ispend a few minutes in a question and answer session, then retire to one of theback rooms for a break. I don’t know why I feel exhausted when I haven’t doneanything but talk from the comfort of a chair.
Sweatstarts to pop out on my skin, and my head throbs in tune with my heart. Isuddenly feel weak and shaky.
Jeremy’svoice sounds like it’s travelling through a tunnel when he asks, “Mel, are youokay? You look pale.”
Thewhole room jerks from one side to the other, and my hands grasp at thewheelchair arms. It’s the strangest sensation, to feel like you’re moving whenyou’re sitting still. “Dizzy,” I gasp out, before vomiting down the front of mydress. My only good maternity dress, I think, and it’s my last thought beforeeverything goes dark.
ChapterFourteen
Jeremy
“It’smy fault.” The hospital tiles blur beneath my feet as I pace back and forth.“It was too much for her.”
“Bullshit,”Landon replies. “You told us the doctor said she could go.”
Landonand Justus both rushed to the hospital when I told them Melissa was in trouble.A doctor emerges from the double doors and asks, “Are you Melissa Sander’sfamily?”
“Yes.”I step forward, resisting the urge to grab him and shake the words I want tohear out of him. “Is she okay?”
