Melissa Brayden: Heart Block

With her heart still thudding in her chest like a jackhammer, her body still singing, and Emory’s arms around her, Sarah knew she was home.

*

Seagulls and the sounds of the early tide woke Sarah the next morning, and it only took a moment for her to feel the happiness moving through her in big, warm waves. She sat up groggily in bed and looked around for Emory. The door to the terrace was open and the sheer curtains fluttered in the chilly breeze, a clue to her whereabouts. She crossed the room, shrugging into a T-shirt from the dresser as she went, when something caught her eye. To her right, there stood a canvas propped against the wall. She hadn’t noticed it the night before, but then again, she’d been wonderfully preoccupied. She moved closer, stunned at the beauty, the simplicity of the image, and took a moment to let her feelings settle. She studied the lines, her own features so familiar, yet so new. Was this really the way Emory saw her? She picked up the painting, captivated by the window it offered into the artist’s soul.

“It was the first thing I wanted to paint. I was a little out of practice, but in the end, it came out just the way I wanted.” Sarah turned to Emory, who stood in the doorway to the terrace. She wore a light blue silk robe and looked sated and beautiful after the night they’d shared.

Sarah shook her head slightly in wonder. “I don’t know quite what to say. It’s stunning.” And she meant it. She’d seen Emory’s work in subtle manifestations, but nothing like this. Nothing so complete. It was true. Emory was beyond gifted.

“Have you seen the subject? How could it not be?”

Sarah met her eyes in all seriousness. “That’s not what I meant. How did you do it, capture me this way?”

“Well, I happen to love your face, your hands.” Emory pressed a delicate kiss into her palm. “The way you move. I had dozens of images of you sliding through my head, moments of you attached to my heart, so I just picked one.”

Sarah looked back at the painting, for the first time noticing the glow on her cheek. “This is from our first night together, isn’t it? In front of the fire.”

Emory nodded. “That was the night my life changed.”

Sarah nodded and caressed her cheek. “Mine too.”

Emory looked down at the painting “I’d say you could have it, but I don’t think I’m willing to let it go.”

“That’s okay. I was kind of hoping for joint custody.” And giving in to the temptation that had been with her since she awoke, she slid her fingers into Emory’s sun-streaked hair and pulled her in for a kiss that left them both breathless and stumbling back to the bed.

Epilogue

Six months later

The gallery was still bustling as they approached the last hour of the showing. Intense-looking people dressed to the nines perused the various pieces that lined the walls as waiters moved about the room with trays of champagne and canapés.

Emory felt the butterflies in her stomach enter into a last dance and sighed in relief that she’d almost made it through. It was one thing to head up a multimillion dollar company, but quite another to have your art, your innermost expression, on display for the world to see and critique at will. She’d be lying, however, if she said it wasn’t exciting at the same time. Because it really, really was. As she sipped her champagne in the corner of the room, she heard a patron’s voice behind her.

“I can’t stop looking at it,” the male voice said. “On each reexamination, I see something I hadn’t noticed before, but by far, the most intriguing aspect of the piece is the way the artist juxtaposes nature against the urban landscape. I mean, look at that and tell me it’s not thought provoking.”

“Find the gallery owner,” his female companion said. “Let’s see what it’s listed at.”

Emory hadn’t been able to contain the small smile that grew steadily on her lips as the evening went on. She knew the opening’s success would hinge on how many of the pieces actually sold, but for her, it was enough to hear that others appreciated her work, saw value in something she’d created. It came with a certain kind of gratification unlike anything else she’d experienced. The rush was palpable, indescribable, and immediate. She realized very quickly that she could get used to this.

“There’s the famous artist now!” Emory smiled in recognition of the familiar voice and turned just in time to feel the arms of Yolanda Matamoros envelop her in an all-consuming embrace. Yolanda, Emory had come to discover in recent months, gave the best hugs in the history of the world.

She felt herself light up. “I’m so happy you both came. You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Are you kidding? And miss all this? Never. It’s an important night for you.”

Roberto placed a hand on her arm. “Your work is beautiful, Emory.”

Yolanda thrust a camera at him. “Take our picture, Berto. I’ll say I knew her when.” Emory wrapped an arm around Yolanda and smiled warmly into the lens.

“We’ll let you get back to your show,” Roberto said. “We’re off to see the rest of the paintings. See you Sunday for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” And she wouldn’t. She smiled after the people who had become her surrogate parents, still surprised at how much they’d come to mean to her in such a short time. She made her way into the next room, where most of the work was displayed. The lights were dim, and mellow music emanated from the classical guitarist in the corner. She hadn’t made it but ten feet into the room before Grace was at her side like a rocket. “Emory, only two paintings are left.”

She smoothed the back of Grace’s hair and looked down at her. “That can’t be right. Who told you that?”

“The gallery owner, Melody. She said I’m her assistant. See? Here’s the inventory.”

She thrust the clipboard upward for Emory to see. Emory scanned the page in mystification. “I didn’t think too many would actually sell,” she mumbled to herself as Grace scampered away.

“I did,” her favorite voice in all of history said in her ear. Emory turned around to Sarah’s sparkling eyes. “You’re a hit. It’s confirmed. I just finished talking to a reporter from CityBeat . She’s in love with your work and said to look for her review on Monday. How does that sit?”

Emory shook her head. Something about being in Sarah’s presence made her incredibly honest with her feelings and emotion was now bubbling to the surface in rapid waves. “It all feels so surreal, in a good way, but still surreal.” This was the kind of night she had imagined growing up when she was young and the world seemed to have endless possibilities. She’d long ago stuffed those idealistic daydreams aside and now, to actually have one come true struck a chord. “I don’t know what to say, other than, thank you.”

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “For what?”

Emory took Sarah’s hand and pulled her into the corner of the room, outside the earshot of the meandering guests. “For this. If I’d never met you, Sarah, I’d be sitting behind a desk at the office up to my elbows in paperwork, alone and unaware of how much of life I was actually missing out on.” Her voice softened. “So, yes, thank you for coming into my life.”

Sarah didn’t answer. Instead, she kissed her simply. “I love you, you know that?”

Emory smiled. “I do. It’s awesome.”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Melody said, approaching. “But I wanted to break it to you myself.” She looked somber and Emory didn’t like that.

“Okay. What’s up? Is there a problem?”

“Unfortunately. I’m afraid you’re going to have to part with every last piece we’ve displayed at this little showing of yours.” Melody broke into a triumphant grin.