Page 53 of Take Me Slowly: part 2
"It's true though," Holly said. "I feel that way with the four of us too. Sorry, I mean the five of us," she said with a laugh when Sarah started to protest. "Not that things weren't amazing before that, but I like having you around."
"I like having her around too," Sarah said loudly. "I'm going to be an artist, like Leah. Can you teach me to draw and paint like you do?"
"I'd be happy to," I said. I meant it. The kid was cute and I was always happy to foster creativity.
"When Leah is feeling better," Fiona gently reminded her daughter. "She needs to rest right now, not work."
"Does she have a migraine?" Sarah scrunched up her brow. "Mommy gets migraines sometimes and she has to lie down in the dark. I sit and draw, but sometimes I make a grilled cheese for her to eat for dinner."
"You do a good job taking care of her," I said. I quickly explained about my arthritis, while she wrinkled her nose in sympathy.
"I don't want to have that," she declared. "Or migraines."
"Me either," Fiona said ruefully.
I could tell what she was thinking, but no one was going to tell Sarah migraines tended to be hereditary. Hopefully shewouldn't find out the hard way. If she did, at least she knew how to take care of herself. Yeah, small mercy, I know.
"Sometimes not very nice things happen to nice people," Whitney said in her teacher voice. "That's when we know who we can rely on to help us when we need help. That's also when we know how tough we can be. If I had arthritis or migraines, I'd be crying in a corner. But your mommy, and Leah, they're super tough." She leaned in and loudly whispered to Sarah, "They might be superheroes."
Fiona barked a laugh, but Sarah turned adoring eyes to her. I suspected she already thought her mother was a superhero. Or at least a badass.
As for me, I didn't feel much like either of those things.
"I used to be a sculptor," I blurted out. "I was starting to get noticed. People were asking for my work. Paying for it." Paying well. "When I couldn't do it anymore, I didn't feel tough at all. Instead, I ran away and came here."
I brushed tears off my cheeks again. What was wrong with me today? I was a blubbering mess. Pain and broken sleep would do that to anyone, I supposed. I was only human after all.
Whitney scooted over and put an arm around me. "Don't think of it as running away. You reinvented yourself. You went from being a sculptor in the city to being a different kind of artist, in a small town. Can you honestly say you miss that life?" She drew her head back and gave me a steady look, silently insisting on my honesty, at least with myself. Sometimes, she and her brother weren't that different.
"I…" Could I? "I never thought about it like that. I guess I don't." If it wasn't for the flare-ups, I wouldn't have come here. Or I might, but would I have stayed? I would have had a life to return to. I could live without the pain, but what about the rest of it? I would have missed my four guys and my three… Four best friends.
When I really thought about it, I was lucky. If I hadn't stuck around, I never would have known about Coral Clarke. I might have spent the rest of my life oblivious to the past.
"Of course you don't," Fiona said. "Living in Aurora Hollow is peak life. No pun intended. And if you ask me anything, people should be paying a crap ton for your paintings and drawings. Once people realise you're here, they'll be lining up all the way down to the bottom of the mountain to buy one."
"They'll have to get into the queue behind us," Holly said. She nodded like the matter was settled.
Of course, I didn't expect any of them to actually buy anything from me. Their words, their support, it meant more to me than any dollar amount.
"Damn straight they will," Whitney agreed. "Although I might have to start saving now for the three million dollar paintings."
"The day anyone pays that much for a work of mine," I said disbelievingly.
"They'll be getting a bargain," Holly said firmly.
"I don't know about that," I said modestly. If I could sell a few for a fraction of that, I'd be able to buy a place. Maybe somewhere big enough for five people. With space for Josiah to be alone if he needed it. And for me to make my art.
"Three million dollars?" Sarah's eyes were huge.
"People can pay a lot for art," Whitney told her.
"Mommy…" Sarah gave Fiona a sly look.
"As much as I'd love to pay three million dollars for your art so I can put it on the fridge, I don't have that kind of money." Fiona shook her head and laughed.
If she did have that kind of money, no doubt she'd pay for the privilege of displaying Sarah's work. I wished my mother had the same attitude as she did. Sarah was a lucky kid. Was I too oldfor Fiona to adopt me? I mentally laughed at myself for the silly idea.
"Awww." But Sarah was still smiling, her mind ticking over. Like she was trying to figure out who might have money for her work. Hopefully when she figured it out, she'd tell me so I could sell to them too.
