Page 112 of Lavender Moon

“Quit worrying your pretty little purple-haired head,” she chides, tugging at a piece of my hair that’s gone back to being died several variations of the color. “It was just a first glance kind of thing. It’s amazing to see you taking so much pride in your art again, and I love how you put your signature purple in it.”

“Just a few accents,” I shrug.

Cassidy takes another appreciative look at it before her shoulders rise and drop with a long cleansing breath. “Alright, you’re taking me out tonight,” she announces. “We’ll celebrate you kicking this class’s ass. Out of the overalls,” she orders, waving a hand at my wardrobe.

“Where are we going?” I ask, not feeling like going out at all, but knowing that arguing is useless, especially after blowing off the idea several times already.

She gets an excitedly smug smile and holds her hands out. “It’s perfect, actually. I got these exclusive tickets to a new art gallery on the edge of town. It’s not even open to the public yet, but we get to go to a private, advanced showing!” She lightly claps her hands.

“Well… that does sound cool,” I comment appreciatively. “How did you get the tickets?”

She squints one eye. “The coffee shop. They were having some giveaway with peoples punch cards, and anyway, I won an exclusive tour of this new place!” she finishes with a smile that’s exceptionally wide, even for her.

She’s being kind of weird, but again, I don’t want to call her out on it and get pulled into some push and pull over whether I go out or not nearly as bad as I just want to get it over with so I can say I did and come home to snuggle in my sweats with Buster.

“Okay then.” I shoot her an exaggerated look of approval to let her know I’m not buying it, but going with it.

“How long do I have to get ready?”

* * *

I’ve never beento this part of town before, but it’s quaint, and I like it. It’s like a section of the big city was carved out into a charming small town. I love all the hanging baskets outside the businesses; it’s so much like Coyote Creek.

Something sinks in my chest at the thought of the town I once called home, and I quickly try to blink it away, much like I do with all memories involving Kaleb. I haven’t heard from him, and while I told him to just sign the papers so that we could put all our trials and troubles behind us, I can’t deny how much I miss him. I truly did fall so deeply in love with him. I’d been climbing that hill steadily since we were ten, and then last year, we just took the plunge off the edge together.

I haven’t heard anything further on our divorce either, and I haven’t done anything to reach out or question it. It sounds desperate and pathetic, but I guess I like knowing I’m tied to him in some way still.

I shake out of my nostalgic state once again as Cassidy finds a vacant piece of curb to pull up to.

“What’s this place called again?” I ask as we exit the car, even though she didn’t tell me in the first place.

“Um,” she hesitates, holding up a finger as she starts leading us across the street. “I knew, but I forgot.”

“Well, is the name on the tickets?” I ask, noting that she’s not even carrying any. Maybe they’re in her purse.

“Nope,” she answers quickly as we step onto the sidewalk.

There’s no question in my mind anymore. She’s up to something, but I’m not letting her know that I know just yet. I want to see just how far she’s going to take this… except then we cross over a driveway and into a back parking lot. The area still seems friendly enough, but what are we doing behind the pretty brick buildings?

“Whoa, where are we going?” I ask Cass while slowing my pace.

“The front entrance is closed off,” she explains, “so as not to confuse people into thinking they're open yet. The invite said to come in through the back.”

I nod and nervously push a strand of hair behind my ear, taking one last glance down at myself, wondering if I’m dressed okay for … whatever this is. I opted for an olive-colored pair of cargo pants and a black top, and made sure my hair was nicely brushed out.

I pull my purse strap higher up on my shoulder as Cassidy stops in front of metal paneled door and pulls on its lever, as if she’s been here a hundred times before already. Leading us in, she closes the door behind us as I stop in the vestibule and take in what I can see of the place so far. It’s got a trendy but cozy look with exposed brick that’s beautifully lit by strategically placed hanging lights. I love the glow and vibe of the place, and the way my chunk heals thunk on the hardwood floor as Cassidy strides past me, leading us in further. The only thing is… it’s empty. No people, and no art displays that I can see.

“Cass, what’s going on?” I ask pointedly as I look at her. “This clearly is not a gallery, even if it isn’t open yet. Tell me,” I finish firmly.

My uncharacteristically brash tone is clearly a surprise to her, and I swear I actually hear her gulp. Then her eyes nervously flit to something over my shoulder. I follow her line of sight and turn, my breath getting caught in my throat when I see what she’s seeing.

Held to the brick wall by a piece of scotch tape is the drawing of a wolf that’s been filled in with a multitude of black and purple shades. The very same that was drawn by a ten-year-old boy, and colored in by a girl of the same age. I reach up to touch it, wanting to feel the paper and crayon beneath my fingertips, and it doesn’t fail to take me right back to that moment.

“There’s… plenty more art to see,” Cassidy whispers and straightens her spine, and I catch a glimmer of moisture in her eyes before she takes a breath and announces. “I just remembered that I have anywhere else to be. I’ll see you later.” She flashes a heart-warming smile at me before she pulls on the door lever again and swiftly exits through it.

When the door slams, my eyes dart back up to the first drawing Kaleb and I ever did – with and for each other – and my heart floats up to beat higher in my chest. In this moment, I know what I want, what I need more than anything else in this world… and to hell with anything else.

“Kaleb?” I call out, dropping my purse to the floor and hurrying further into the open floor plan that’s separated by a couple of stone pillars. One of them has what I’m almost positive is the first sketch Kaleb made of the tattoo he put on me. I come around the side of it to find Kaleb striding out of a back corridor, looking more beautiful than I’ve ever seen him. In a nice pair of blue jeans, a black Henley, and with his dog tags on full display, he looks like the dream of a guy I married over a year ago, and I don’t care what’s wrong or right – I rush into his arms.

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