Sheri WhiteFeather - Lost and Found Husband

He got behind the wheel, and she gave him the address of the gallery. He typed it into the navigation system and drove into the night.

They barely spoke on the way. Mostly they listened to the female computer voice giving directions.

Finally Dana said, “I don’t have one of those. I just take the chance of getting lost. Besides, sometimes you end up in interesting places when you go the wrong way.”

“Do you have a bad sense of direction?”

“The worst.” She grinned like an imp. “That part of my brain never developed, I guess. But we all have something not quite right about us.”

His “not quite right” was his attraction to her. She didn’t make sense in his organized world. She was too young, too free, too far from his norm.

They arrived at their destination, and he drove around to find a parking space.

“I love this area,” Dana said.

Eric kept quiet. He used to love it, too. The oceanfront hotel that hosted his wedding was nearby.

He nabbed a parking spot, and they walked a block or so to the gallery.

They entered the reception area, where food and drink were being served. But they didn’t make a beeline for the buffet. To do so would have been tacky and insulting to the artist, or, in this case, the group of artists being showcased. Eric did opt for the bar, though. He needed a drink. Dana accepted a glass of wine, as well.

Together, they wandered around. The Valentine theme played out in different ways. Some pieces were warm and whimsical, others deep and epic. One spicy collection presented a sensual tone, whereas another was tragic.

The tragic art impacted Eric the most. Love found, love lost. He was morosely drawn to it.

Dana stood beside him as they gazed at a painting of a man reaching toward the sky, where a woman was fading away from him. The emotion it evoked hit him square in the gut.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked her.

“No, but I hope to fall madly in love someday. It must be an incredible feeling.”

“It is.”

As he continued to study the piece, she studied him. He could feel her blue eyes burning into his soul.

“I’m sorry if this is difficult for you,” she said softly.

He denied his pain. “I’m fine.” He turned away from the painting. “Do you want to sample the buffet now?”

“Sure. That sounds good. But afterward, I’d like to go through the other parts of the exhibit again.”

The other parts. The non-tragic works. “And play a cherub/putto guessing game?” They hadn’t done that yet. There had been too much to look at, too much to take in, especially with Eric spending so much time on the sad images.

“Yes, I want to see the cherubs and putti again, but I want to take a closer look at the sexy artwork, too.” She flashed her scarlet-lipstick smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see that sort of thing included in the show.”

Her mouth looked downright lush. To keep his brain from fogging, he tried to say something intelligent. “Sex is an important aspect of love.”

“And sometimes sex is just sex. That’s the only kind I’ve known. Not that I’m an authority on the subject or anything. I’ve only had a couple of boyfriends. Men I liked, but didn’t love, obviously.”

“I used to have uncommitted sex before I met Corrine. I barely remember those affairs now. But it was ages ago.”

“Time slips by.”

“Yes, it does.”

He led Dana to the buffet, and they put appetizers on their plate. He tried not to watch her eat. But it was impossible not to be fascinated by her mouth. The kiss they’d promised to exchange was still imbedded in his mind.

She nibbled on an array of fruit. As his attraction to her heightened, he said, “You could be an artist’s muse, looking the way you look tonight.”

“Thank you. I think it’s the nicest compliment a man has ever paid me.”

“Young and nubile, as they used to say.”

“You better stop talking like that or you’re going to turn me into a seductress.”

She was already a seductress, tempting him with her beauty and flair. He swigged his drink, doing his damnedest to cool off. They finished their food and wandered the gallery once more. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the sensual art again, not with the way she was affecting him.

The cherubs and putti were first, and he forced himself to play their game, comparing two illustrations that hung side by side. “So, which is which?”

“That’s a cherub,” she replied, about a heavenly-looking little guy. “And those are putti,” she added, referring to the other drawing, where mischief ran amuck.

“How about that one?” He gestured to a painting that wasn’t as easy to define.

She gazed at it for a while. “I don’t have a clue.”

“Truthfully, I don’t, either. Sometimes it’s tough to know what the artist is trying to convey.”

They moved onto the sensual art, where lust reigned supreme.

Dana approached an alluring picture. “Look how beautiful it is.”

Eric was looking. He wished he wasn’t, though. The image was a photograph of a bewitching redhead reclining on a satin-draped bed with her hair coiled around the pillow and shaped into a heart. A tall, leanly muscled man tossed red dahlias onto the bed, only he was in shadow, his presence adding an air of mystery.

“I think she’s dreaming about him,” Dana said. “And that he’s not really there.”

Eric could see why Dana was attracted to this piece, especially with the inclusion of the dahlias. It made him want to kiss her, here and now, but it was neither the time nor the place, not when they’d agreed on a good-night kiss at her door.

He said, “The flowers are the same as what’s on your dress.”

“I noticed that, too. I can imagine being her, lying in bed, thinking about my lover. If I had a lover,” she amended.

To keep from envisioning her in the same pose as the model, he asked, “Why do you wear flowers in your hair at work?”

“They make me feel happy, bright and pretty. I always wear them at my right ear because I read somewhere that it means a woman is available. Once I switch to my left ear, it will mean I’m taken.”

“Remember the rose you gave me on the day I told you that I was a widower?”

She nodded.

“I took it to Corrine’s grave. I try to bring her flowers when I can. It’s weird, though, because I’ve probably given her more flowers in death than I gave her in life.”

“I’ve never been to a funeral or a cemetery or anything like that. No one close to me has ever died.”

He’d seen more than his share of death. “You’re lucky.”

“I’m lucky to be on this date, too. And I love that you brought me an orchid.”

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think it’s only fair to say it. Corrine’s bridal bouquet had orchids in it. But I’m not sure if I chose it for that reason or it was subconscious.”

“You said yesterday on the phone that I was confusing you. I guess that holds true for tonight, too.”

“So it seems.”

She smiled her usual smile. “I still love that you gave me the orchid.”

“You don’t care that I’m confused?”

“I just want you to be enjoying yourself.”

Strangely enough, he was. “When we leave here, do you want to go for a walk on the pier?” Confusion aside, he wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

* * *

Dana breathed in the sea air. Although a few of the restaurants remained open, most of the shops were closed. The connecting amusement park was shut down for the night, too, keeping winter hours.

“Did you know that this pier opened in 1909?” Eric asked.

“I knew it had been here awhile, but I didn’t know the exact era. How different it must have been back then.”