Page 62 of Finding New Dreams

Ideas sparkled like gemstones in the shadowy cavern of my imagination. That bright thrill of discovery propelled me back to my canvas. After a few minutes of work, I’d stroked out long, crooked branches and roots. Then I washed off my thumb and dipped the fingers of both hands into various colors of paint—reds, purples, greens, yellows, blues; a different color on each digit.

A giddiness filled my soul. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time—maybe since I’d been Mrs. Q’s student, just starting to test the boundaries of art and my imagination.

I danced my painted fingertips over the branches, leaving a multitude of finger-shaped leaves, like so many jewels in the tree’s crown.

Grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, I stepped back to admire my simple work.

I turned my head at the sound of a bench scraping across the concrete. Kids were standing on tiptoe, craning their necks to see what I’d done.

I waggled my messy fingers at them, and they laughed with me. I picked out Rose’s laugh among them, the sweetest note in a chorus. My feet carried me to her before I could think about it. I stopped next to her with my hands twisted together behind my back.

Her eyes brightened as she joined the kids in plunging her fingers into the paints. She then dotted leaves over her yellow tree.

She twisted her head to look at me from under long, charcoal eyelashes. “Care to add a leaf, Mr. Higgins?”

My throat tightened. Wordlessly, I dipped my index finger in a pink that reminded me of her lips and leaned down to add a leaf to one of her golden branches. Her scent, like strawberries and chocolate, made my lips part as if I could taste her.

“Perfect,” she whispered. Her breath fluttered against my ear, causing me to jerk upright.

She gazed up at me with wide eyes. Did she really not know how she affected me? That being near her was maddening? I wanted to pull her into my arms and press my lips against hers until her mouth would only ever want mine. I wanted to see just how well she danced when her feet weren’t on the floor. She sure as hell wouldn’t find a more eager dance partner than me.

But she doesn’t want you.

I cleared my throat, looking at her painting instead of into those eyes that tugged on my soul. “A+, Miss Rafferty. A lovely tree of courage.”

Next to her, Dom asked, “Why did you ask him to add a leaf, Rose?”

She faced him, and even though I couldn’t see it, I could hear the smile in her voice. “Because sometimes other people can give you the courage to be courageous. If that makes sense.”

Dom tapped his chin, leaving speckles of green paint. “Yeah. Like how I felt better at basketball tryouts when my mom was there cheering me on.”

I nodded while Rose chirped, “Exactly!”

Hannah raised her hand again, bouncing in her seat. “Oh, like when my little brother got really scared of a big thunderstorm, and I was really scared too, but I didn’t show it. Instead, I told him a bunch of stories from my books until he felt better! Then I felt better too!”

Chuckling, I nodded again. But before I could respond, the young boy next to her piped up with his own story. Pretty soon, Mrs. Q was supervising the impromptu story-time as the kids clamored to share.

While they talked and listened to their classmates, their little fingers never stopped working on their art. They even started trading fingerprints on each other’s canvases.

An intoxicating mix of pride and excitement swirled through my chest. I’d never felt this way before. Sure, I’d been proud of my own work. Excited when a new idea struck or when a renowned artist agreed to work with me.

But this was different.

I was proud of them. Excited for them and what they’d uncovered about themselves through art. I was also proud that I’d helped inspire that. Me. The guy who could barely find inspiration himself these days.

Except when I was around…

My eyes landed on Rose for a heartbeat.

But now these kids had inspired me as well. Already, I itched to get back to the studio and let loose the colors and images and emotions that burned through my mind like shooting stars.

I clapped along with the rest when the last kid, Matthew, finished speaking.

Mrs. Q clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes glistening. “Beautiful, Matthew. All of you. Just beautiful. But I’m afraid it’s time to clean up.”

Their answering groans and sighs were the cherries on top of the sundae that my class had been.

“Do we get to bring our art home, Mr. Higgins?” Hannah asked breathlessly, the end of one of her pigtails coated in purple paint.

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