Appointment with a Smile (21 page)

“It’s your vocation maybe? Digging up the dirt? I’m not able to properly vet you.”

“first, let’s get back to your wild life of yesteryear.”

“Thankfully, my life has been too busy painting to have produced many X-rated stories. And absolutely no sequels.”

“I’ve not been a template for playgirls either,” she said. “Pretty tame stuff. In fact, if you want my history during the past several years, I haven’t been emotionally or physically involved. Until you. You’re someone with whom I can relate.”

“Amazing how compatible we really are,” I mused. “Our affair is delicate, comfortable, sweet, and honest.”

She seemed to measure her response before speaking again. “Do you believe our affair might go beyond?”

“Beyond?”

“You seem to have come to terms with Molly being out of your life.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I guess that was a presumptuous question. Forget it.”

It took me several moments to realize the depth of her question. “I’m not an impulsive person. Are you asking if we might move our relationship up a notch?”

“Danielle, I could fall deeply in love with you. I know that’s dangerous. I’m certainly not impulsive either. But if there’s a chance this might not be just a vacation romance, it would be nice to consider.”

“Yes.” I quickly gulped a mouthful of coffee. My mind wanted to reject any thought of the possibility. “So many impediments exist to making any relationship work. Time’s a great indicator. The older we get, the more unattainable the dream of a relationship becomes. We try to out-wait love. Yet even when I was young, I couldn’t make a woman happy. You and I face so many obstacles and not only the set-in-our-ways problems. There are differences of culture and location. It would be complex.”

“I see I’m the romantic here,” she said. “Isn’t it supposed to be the artist who is an idyllic, enamored romantic?”

“Well, for starters, we live a pond and half a continent away from one another. We belong to different circles of friends, home ties, and countries. Different cultures.”

“As I’ve stated before, Danielle, Canadians are far more like Americans than we are like the English. And place is not my enemy. Place is where I love and am loved.”

“When Molly and I met, she was going to college in my territory. I belonged there and didn’t stray off from it. Initially, she planned to relocate permanently in Colorado. So place is important to me.”

“I’ve always been a traveler at heart. My parents moved their entire large family from Canada to England and then back again.”

“All my adult life I’ve been a homebody.”

“I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to travel the world. But as I grow older, I realize I’d like a home,” Bethany said. “Where that place is doesn’t matter as long as I’m happy there. All of my ‘places’ have been temporary. It was easy for me to pick up and move.”

“You and I are different that way. It would seem foreign to me not to have a home base.”

“With the airline, there’s so much travel, home becomes little more than a rest stop. Tricia’s studies, then later her performances, took her throughout the continent. We spent a year in Vienna, a year in Rome, and two years in Paris. Then we came back to London when her dying mother needed us. Luckily, I could easily obtain transfers with my airline. After Tricia’s death, I stayed on in London. Now I’m here for my job.”

“You’ve said you love your profession.”

“I do, but it can be highly stressful. I started thinking about retirement last year when one of my fellow workers died of a stroke. He and I had started with the airline at the same time. We became friends, coming out to one another early on. Later he and his partner and Tricia and I were constant couples. When my friend died in his early fifties, it hit home how much tension and pressure our job entailed.”

“I couldn’t cope if I were to try your profession,” I said.

“I’m not even sure if I
want
to cope with it any longer,” she answered.

“Bethany, any decision you make would need to be carefully considered. For whatever reason. Above all, it should be your reason.”

“It’s important to consider all decisions carefully,” she said. “But I’ll never allow the fear of relocating to override the pursuit of love. Having lost love in such a permanent way, I’ll never give up on love. I’m concerned that you’ll continue to reject love because you no longer believe in it. That would be tragic, Danielle.”

Chapter 38

We returned to my suite by noon where I painted and Bethany read. The day had been extraordinarily tranquil, productive, and enchanting. As evening approached, we thought a little exercise and fresh air before dinner would be wonderful.

We took a brisk walk. On our trek, we discovered a small neighborhood noodle shop. Blooms of fragrant spicy scents wafted from the doorway. The aroma was irresistible, and we immediately decided to make our meal a takeout. We ordered noodle and pork bowls and flavored tea. Aromatic seasonings, topped with slivers of candied ginger and almonds filled the noodle bowls. With the two sacks of oriental flavors, we jaunted back to the hotel.

When we reached the suite, the scent of noodles filled the room. We talked and laughed over our makeshift dinner, the seriousness of our earlier conversation now remote. I was disappointed she couldn’t stay over, but she had an important early morning meeting to attend. She thought she’d feel more comfortable with a good night’s sleep.

After Bethany left, I examined the portrait of the two of us. I had just started working on it when my room phone rang. I guessed she was calling to tell me she arrived home and to say goodnight.

That wasn’t the case. I heard Samantha’s hurried voice. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought you’d want to know…” She started sobbing.

“Samantha,” I said with alarm, recognizing that she was hysterical. “Samantha, what is it?”

“Mother. She’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean ‘gone’?”

For many moments there were sobs, and when she caught her breath, she began again. “She died this afternoon.”

My mind couldn’t take in the meaning of her words. The room seemed to grow smaller. I fell into a chair before my legs gave out. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“She had a cardiac arrest. We took this trip mainly to keep her mind from a surgery scheduled for when we got home. She’s been suffering cardiac difficulties. She’d had two heart attacks in the past year alone. The upcoming operation was to alleviate some of the problems. The doctors believed it wasn’t a solution to her weakened heart but would offer time. They agreed the vacation would do her good, and so we came. I shouldn’t have even suggested it to her.” She started crying again.

I struggled with my own emotions. “Samantha, I’m so sorry.” I recalled that Molly’s family had a medical history of cardiac afflictions. “She looked well.”

“We all believed she would be fine. She believed she would be.”

“I tried to convince her that we might make a new start.” My words sounded like stones striking against a hard surface.

“She told me. She couldn’t promise you anything because of her health.”

“But I would have been there for her. She should have told me. I love her,” I said, my voice trembling.

“She didn’t say it exactly, but she implied that she didn’t want you to go through her health problems with her and then lose her.”

“But I would have been there…” I tried to stifle the whimper that caught in my throat. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon. We’ll take Mom’s ashes back to California for services there. I’m calling not only to tell you that but also to tell you what a privilege it was to meet you. I know why my mother loved you so. And she did. She told me she had always dreamed of seeing you again. After seeing you in the market for the first time in all those years, she was so pleased. Just last night she mentioned you had always been able to peer into her soul. We were discussing your portraits of her. She was very proud of them.”

“Paintings of Molly have always been the most special to me. I have one other at home. I’ll send you a photo of it. It’s titled
Twilight with Molly
. The painting has hung in my bedroom beside my bed for thirty years.”

“Oh, Danielle. You loved her so deeply. I feel guilty about all of this.”

“All of this?”

“I must make a confession. I found out you were showing here. Jeff and I chase our new finds. We’re always aware of where they’re showing. I had planned to take Mother with me on an acquisition search and naturally make it to your opening. We planned to reunite the two of you.”

“All that trouble just because you felt guilty that she stayed with Pamela for your sake?” It wasn’t adding up.

“That was only a small portion of the truth. I’m so terribly sorry, but our scheme was to get you back in her life. I know I’ve been deceitful, but Jeff and I believed if you were back in her life she would have something to fight for. Someone special. It might get her through the operation. So much of health requires a desire to live. We were desperate. I should have contacted you first. I hope you can understand.”

“I do understand. You were trying to protect her. And I’m sure she fought to live for her family. Sometimes no matter how much you struggle, it isn’t enough.”

“She was able to see you again. That meant the world to her. I’ve had the opportunity to meet the love of her life and to get to know you as an artist. I want you to know that means the world to me.”

It suddenly occurred to me they’d acquired a great many of my paintings. I wanted it to have been for the right reasons. “I hope this plan didn’t include purchasing my work. I wouldn’t want to think it might have drained your resources. I’m not a known commodity. The future of my work might be financially risky.”

“Of course we were genuinely interested in your work as well. The reunion wouldn’t have taken any purchases at all. We realized how magical your work truly is. It has already greatly appreciated financially. We’ve had multiple offers for the acquisitions we’ve purchased. Your work has become quite valued.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted to see you stuck with it.”

“We both know better than that,” she said. “Your art is Jeffery’s magnificent find of the year. We treasure it and Mom treasured it. Jeff’s of the opinion that you’re just beginning. We have plans to purchase more of your work in Boston.”

“You know about the Boston exhibit?”

“Jeff finds everything out about upcoming exhibits, it would seem. I hope that you might meet him and our sons. They’d also like to meet you. We’re holding a service for Mom in a few weeks. If you think there might be a chance of coming to California, we’d love to have you stay with us. Mom often spoke of you to our sons.”

“Of me?”

“Yes. Stories she told when they were small boys. She told them about your apartment patio garden. How you kept containers out on a little deck. How you would pat the herbs and their scent would lift. She loved the scented geraniums you grew. She also spoke of your painting flowers that looked like people’s faces. Pansies and violets.”

“I called them the—”

“People pansies. Yes. She told me those stories when I was a little girl, too. Whenever we passed a patch of pansies, we would do as you did. Name them. It was a great game for a small child.”

I didn’t try to stop the tears that streamed down my cheeks. I’d also named pansies and patted herbs with the children in my own family. “I’d like very much to attend the service. Please do let me know the details. I’ll plan to be there. I’d love to meet your family. Molly loved you all so much. Please give your husband and sons my condolences. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Danielle. It’s important that you believe me. She loved you with all her heart.”

“I hope you know how much I love her. I’ve never really stopped believing in our love.”

As we ended the call, I stood and replaced the receiver in its cradle. It dawned on me that all except love had now ended.

I now knew the reason behind Molly’s decision to push me from her. The circumstances she spoke of were her failing health. She hadn’t wanted us to get back together because she loved me too much to leave me again. And this leaving couldn’t be helped.

One rarely reaches the age of sixty without having the impact of loss. Grief speaks with amazing fluency as years advance. The death of Molly seemed to deliver the most desolate words I had ever experienced. Suddenly, my legs gave out from under me, and I collapsed against the sofa’s cushions in a heap. My sobs continued through the evening’s thick cobalt night and into morning’s vast eternity.

Chapter 39

It seemed even the undulating galaxy shook its fist at us. Our spin across the universe came down to time. When death occurred, the remembrance of love didn’t end. We simply carried away with us what had been.

I liked to believe that an afterlife existed. Much of science seemed to concur. A reexamination of a lifetime is possible, yet one can never rewind it. The formula of life seemed simple. There was no magic elixir other than paying attention to life as it happened.

Perhaps the fortunate who prevailed learned that love actually does last as long as our remembrances. Just as we’d always believed. No matter how many times we faced discouragement, we came back to where we believed we’d last placed love.

A barrage of hard knocking at the door interrupted my thoughts. Esther’s voice, although muted, kept rising. When I opened the door, she burst through. Like the wheeling panoply of the cosmos, she moved across the room. She flailed her arms, and her voice became shriller by the second.

“Damn it, Danielle, we’re worried about you. You won’t answer your phone. Bethany said when she left everything seemed fine. Then when you didn’t call or accept calls, she thought you’d gone back to Molly.” Her face was that of a demanding statue. “What’s going on?”

I felt as though my life was chaos. Death made us remote, I thought as my mouth wobbled to get words to pass through my lips. “Samantha called. Molly died.” With those words, sudden contempt filled my heart—Molly was again with Pamela.