EMBER - Part Two (The EMBER Series Book 2) (9 page)

"You can't possibly be right." Zoe is looking directly at Vanessa when I enter the room. "You're wrong."

"I'm telling you I'm right." Vanessa is standing with her hands on her hips. "I've met her. That's her."

"Who did you meet?" I step between them, wanting to lessen the tension in the room. "What are you two talking about?"

"You drew Maisy," Vanessa says the words as her eyes race over my face.

I reach out in front of me to steady my balance. "What are you talking about? I never drew Maisy."

"That's her, Bridget." Her fingers float past my head towards one of the sketches I have displayed on the easels. "I'd know her anywhere."

I can't focus on the portraits, only on her words. "When I first asked you about Dane, you told me you'd never met him. How would you know what Maisy looks like?"

"Dane's mom introduced us a few weeks ago." She takes a step towards the portraits. "They were at the hospital for an appointment. I actually saw them there together yesterday but I was too busy to stop and talk. Dane was there too."

I can't absorb anything she's saying to me. "I think you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong. That's her. You drew her."

I stare at her and it feels as if the world is moving in slow motion as she steps away from me towards the easel that is displaying the portrait of Harper.

I feel an immediate sense of relief.

"That's not Maisy." I point towards the drawing. "It's not her. That's my physical therapist. Her name is Harper."

"No. I'm not talking about that one. It's the one over there. "Vanessa's head turns slowly to the left before she gestures towards a lone easel that I'd set up next to the window.

It holds the portrait that's meant the most to me. It's one of the ones that Dane cradled in his hands when he first saw my work.

I remember the day I drew it.

I remember the vulnerability in the woman's face when she looked at me and realized what I was doing.

It was then that she motioned for me to join her.

I did and as I stood next to her in the museum that morning, she told me about how she loved a man who accepted her exactly as she was. They were going to be married soon and live the life she'd always wanted. He was meeting her there, within the hour, to choose a new piece of artwork for their house from the gift shop. She wanted a print of a painting they'd both fallen in love with.

I'd stared at her face, soaking in the obvious joy she was feeling.

I'd hugged her tightly before I told her that I'd keep her in my good thoughts.

I scan the portrait of her hair cascading around her shoulders and her listless legs tucked under the blanket as she sat in the wheelchair she'd been in since she could remember.

As we said goodbye, she told me that she'd never felt the ground beneath her feet. She clasped my hands in hers and whispered in a shaky voice that on her honeymoon, the man she loved was going to carry her to the sand so she could see it between her toes. I'd smiled at the simplicity of that, knowing that it would be a gift that she'd keep inside of her forever.

Before I'd left the museum that day, I'd seen her again near the gift shop.

My breath catches in my chest as I remember the dark haired man who had crouched with his back to me in front of her. He'd pulled the blanket down slightly to reveal the curve of her stomach under the patterned blouse she was wearing and as he'd bent forward to kiss the top of her very swollen belly, she'd rested her chin against his hair.

"We’re having a baby boy," she had called across the crowded room towards me before I waved with a smile and walked away.

"When did you draw that?" Zoe's hand is on my shoulder. I know it's meant to offer comfort but I feel nothing at all.

I swallow hard.

I turn towards her and reach for her hand for support.

I feel my bottom lip quiver so I pull in a deep breath.

"I drew it the day before I met Dane."

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EMBER
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Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.

She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.