Page 41 of Sweet Love at Bayside
“I thought we were organizing?”
“That was before we found all of this!” Violet held up two boxes of clay. “I haven’t done pottery intwoyears. I miss it like you’d miss schedules if you had to go without. But we need signs, so get busy painting them. It’s not like anyone’s going to come to the gallery until we get the signs up and hand out the flyers. Knowing Lizza, she probably painted on the beach and sold her paintings to people who walked by. I promise we’ll get on schedule tomorrow.”
She inspected the potter’s wheel with such a joyous expression, Desiree didn’t want to take that away from her. “You do realize you just promised me you’d get on a schedule, right?”
Violet waved her hand dismissively. “I’d give you an orgasm if you’ll let me do this for a while.”
“Ew.”
Violet laughed. “You definitely need to hang out with me more. You’re too literal. Either that, or you need to get laid.”
Desiree rolled her eyes. “Why are you so crude?” She looked over her mother’s paints and brushes.
“Why are you so uptight?”
Desiree let her comment go as she gazed out the window, trying to figure out what to paint on the sign and wondering if shecouldstill paint. After a while she carried an easel over by the window and secured a canvas to it. She was annoyed, because she wasn’t uptight, but then again, she knew Violet was probably annoyed with her for taking issue with her cursing like a sailor.On the other hand, we’re in the same room and about to embark on something for a common goal.The teacher in her thought that was well worth a little annoyance.
“Aren’t you going to use the wooden sign?” Violet asked as she made room on a table for her supplies.
“I don’t even know if I can paint anymore, Vi. It’s been years, and I haveonechance to get the sign right. I figured I’d practice.” She gazed out the window, taking in the long dune grass blowing in the breeze and the ridge where the dune crested and the world seemed to fall away. A little boy with a blue floppy hat was playing at the edge of the water. He put his toes in and dashed across the sand. Her mind reeled back to her first few summer vacations there with Violet and their grandmother. Desiree had wanted Violet’s attention so badly, she’d made a total pest of herself, following her sister everywhere, begging her to play, or talk, or swim.
She glanced across the room at Violet, remembering what she’d said about growing up traveling with Lizza and never having friends for long enough to build relationships. Maybe Violet was right, and she should count herself lucky for growing up with the stability and comfort of one house, one community, and friends like Emery, whom she’d known forever. The thing was, she hated knowing that her sister had been lonely. It made her wish for those times with Violet even more.
As she selected and lined up the paints, her thoughts turned to Rick. He was rustling up so many parts of her that she’d either buried or forgotten, or simply hadn’t realized she possessed. It was definitely possible to build relationships in short periods of time. The heart had a way of embracing certain people for a million mysterious reasons. She glanced at her smart-mouthed, tattooed sister and found herself hoping Violet would find someone, if only for a few days, or a week, or asummer, who would help her experience the parts of herself she was hiding, too.
DESIREE STARTED WHEN Violet tapped her shoulder, causing her paintbrush to slip to the edge of the canvas.
“Vi,” Desiree complained, and tried to blend in the smear with the rest of the rippling water.
“That’s me,” Violet said in a small voice. “I remember that striped dress. Grandma made it, and Ihatedit.”
Desiree blinked several times, feeling as if she were coming out of a fog. “I was just painting the water…” She studied the painting. Bold strokes and fine lines in dozens of shades of blues, grays, purples, and pinks brought the bay to life. Long blades of dune grass sprang up between rough wooden boards, on which she’d painted Violet from behind, as a little girl. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her thin arms wrapped around them. She’d painted from memory, without any cognitive thought.
“That’s the deck at the edge of the dunes.” Violet touched Desiree’s arm, as if she needed something to stabilize her.
“You used to sit out there, brooding. I’d watch you sometimes.”
“Des, this is amazing. Look at what you’ve created. My hair looks like it’s blowing in the wind. And that ugly striped dress looks like it’s moving, too. You even cinched the waist with that stupid, girly bow. You could sell this.”
“No,” she said too harshly. “I mean. It isn’tthatgood.”And it’s you. I want to keep it.She dropped the paintbrush in the bottle of water and stared down at her hands, unable to believe she’d been so transfixed. She turned away from the painting, unsure of how she felt about this connection to her mother.
“Des, youhave topaint. You haven’t moved from this spot since morning, and it’s”—she pulled out her phone—“five thirty.”
“What? Oh no. Can you please, please,pleaseclean up? Rick’s going to be here in a few minutes, and I need to shower and change.”
“IT WAS LIKE I was in this trance while I was painting,” Desiree said, as she and Rick walked down the beach toward the resort. “It kind of freaks me out. I’ve spent my whole life tryingnotto be her.” She’d shown him the painting she’d made, and her artistic talent had blown him away.
He adjusted the backpack with their extra clothes on his shoulder and drew her against him, knowing exactly what she needed. Because after last night, it was what he needed, too. He gazed into her eyes, and as he’d hoped, her troubled look eased. Heat and a sense of something bigger whirled around them, between them, insidehim, unstoppable and explosive. Her hair swept over her cheek, and he gathered her long locks in one hand, holding it away from her face, earning the sweet smile he’d dreamed of last night.
“I know you’re bothered by your newfound talent, but someday you might feel differently. You might be glad you have something in common with your mother. You never know how things will change. It doesn’t mean that you’ll turn into her or treat other people, or yourself, differently. It’s just one of those things that you might one day be thankful for.”
He realized he was asking her to accept something that was probably as hard for her as his father’s death was for him. But what he’d said was true. Feelings about people and events could change on a dime. No one knew that better than Rick. Until the night he’d told Desiree about the reasons he no longer sailed, he hadn’t wanted to, or been able to, share it with anyone. And now he wanted to conquer it.
She breathed deeply. “It’s just so hard. Accepting that I’m like her scares me, but I guess you could be right.”
“I could be wrong, too,” he said honestly. “But being with you has helped me to see that I need to deal with the parts of my father’s death that still haunt me. Iwantto do that more than I ever have, and that’s because of you. I’m not trying to push your mother on you. I know how much she’s hurt you. I’m just saying, maybe you should leave that door open until you’ve had time to think about it. Painting seems to have brought you and Violet closer together. It might be worth thinking about instead of closing that door completely.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
