On The Dotted Line (27 page)

“Go
love him and don’t be scared. Whatever you saw, let him know. Let him pick you up
after your fall. It’s not my job anymore.” Nan kissed her cheek. “Nothing is
ever certain, there are no rules. Maybe you met him this way because it was the
only way you would allow yourself to fall in love.”

She
pressed her lips against Nan’s cheek. Necessary or not, her wonderful words
still left a hole in her heart. She stood. “I’m going to go take that walk.”

Nan
nodded.

With
a sigh, she backed out of the room taking in Mr. Hartford and Nan together.

“Careful.”
Randolph came up behind her and caught her. “Don’t want you tripping.”

She
looked backward, up at the man she married. No matter the angle, he was a sight
to behold. “What are you doing here?” It seemed the question of the hour.

He
bent down and kissed her nose. “I wanted to make sure someone took care of you
while you took care of Nan.”

“You
want to take care of me?” She managed to get herself into his arms.

“It’s
becoming my favorite past time.” He took hold of her waist. “I can do my work
here.”

“I
want to take care of you.” She let her admission out.

He
kissed her lips. “I think maybe we should just take care of each other and toss
away the score sheet. I have enough of those in my life.”

At
his words, she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his neck and give him a
real kiss, soft but lingering. Her husband had the right idea and she needed to
take Nan’s advice. “That sounds like a plan.” Maybe her plan would outweigh his
contract.

“Willow.”
With his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, he pushed them both up against a
wall near a huge abandoned factory in a questionable area of Long Beach.

“Is
this the spot?” She turned toward the dilapidated wall.

“Willow.”
Breathless, he held his hand out. Armed only with a paintbrush, he purposely brought
his wife into an area that might be deemed unsafe. “This is not a good idea.”

“I
want to watch you paint.” She moved in front of him.

“We’re
going to get arrested.” In all the Van Ayers generations of men, he was certain
no one took their bride directly to the scene of the crime.

“We
aren’t doing anything bad. We are turning something ugly into something
beautiful.” A smile took over her face.

“You’re
beautiful.” He pressed his palm to her face, loving how she looked in her all
black attire, pants, sweater and her hair up in a cap. His little gorgeous
criminal. “Graffiti is technically illegal.”

“Then
it’s a good thing that you are creating art and not graffiti.” She moved back
and faced the wall once more. “You’ve never been caught.”

He
raised his eyebrows.

“You
wanted me to catch you.” She rubbed her hands together. “How did you pick this
place? When did you find it?”

For
the first time in at least two weeks his Willow was back, blushing and sweet
and soft with a bit of edge. Ever since Nan returned from the hospital, he
watched her run herself ragged trying to take care of everything. If being a
workaholic was contagious, he gave his illness to Willow and he needed to find
a cure.

It
took every one of his persuasion tactics to get her to take a break and let him
take her out for their weekend away. The only thing she wanted was to watch him
paint, and he planned a weekend at his family’s Palos Verdes apartment
overlooking the ocean, but gave into a promise he made to her and took her on a
secret excursion. Though he tried to convince her otherwise, he could deny her
nothing. “Why?”

“Why
what?”

“Why
would you want to watch me paint out here? We could have purchased some paints
and a canvas.” He glanced over at her.

She
leaned over. “I want to watch you in your element. I want to know a part of you
no one else does.”

“All
right.” He scanned the area and put his tools down. “Don’t leave my side.”

“That’s
not up to me.” Her tone came out low, breathy.

Unsure
what she meant and with his heart thumping loud enough to set off an alarm, he
shook his head, took out two spray paint cans and assessed his cracked and
chipping canvas.

She
pressed her hands together and waited.

He
gave the can a quick shake, cursing the little ball hitting the metal, but
blessing it as well. The moment the distinctive sound echoed off the walls of
the can, he knew magic would begin. With a vision coming together, he stepped
forward and made the first swipe. A black streak appeared over the grey, dirty
wall.

Willow’s
gasp rang through the air.

“I’ve
never worked with an audience before.” He began his outline.

With
her eyes wide with excitement, she lifted her chin at him. “Keep going.”

For
several minutes he painted. Once the image he wanted took shape in his head, he
could practically close his eyes and still create it. “I found this wall when I
was checking out some property in the Bixby Knolls area around here. I started
driving and was taken in by the oil refineries and factories. When I stopped
here, I realized that the people living around here could see this old wall and
it was a perfect place to put some art.”

“You
are much deeper than you think, Mr. Van Ayers, with a much bigger heart than I
ever imagined.” She moved closer to him.

He
chose some different paint cans. Though he had been called many things in his
life, deep was never one of them. In fact, most would describe him as rather
shallow. Somehow Willow saw more in him, but not enough to remember her name
the night Nan became ill, not enough to call him first. He wanted to use their
time away to show her what they could be together. “I don’t know.”

“I
do,” she whispered. “While you’re with me I always want you to paint. This is
the best night.”

In
all the insanity, he found the one woman on the planet, quite possibly the
universe, who was more than thrilled and appreciative of a drive through the
greater Los Angeles area watching her husband basically commit a crime all for
the name of art. He wanted to give her everything and more. Above all else, he
needed to broach the subject of their contract. Did it even apply anymore? What
did she want? He needed to get her to tell him, wanted her to fight for them as
well.

Again,
silence overtook their little makeshift art studio. The picture began to come
together and the release of creating something real took over. He found his
rhythm. When he first agreed to their expedition, he didn’t know if he would be
able to conjure something with her staring at him, but he found her presence,
or her energy, enhanced the experience. Though he purposely kept the details
sketchy, as he neared the end, he had no choice but to let her in on the
reveal.

“Oh.”
She sucked in her breath.

He
glanced back at her. Her tears caught the little bit of light, leaving shining
silver strands down her face.

“Come
here.”

Without
hesitating she went to him and he pulled her in front of him and gave her a
paint can. “Randolph.”

“I
thought we would put the final touch on together.” He put his hand over hers.

As
a couple they added the last little detail to finish the piece.

“We
should go.” He normally took off the moment he finished, only coming back a few
days later to get a picture, but rather than racing away, he wrapped his arm
around her waist to give her some time to take it in.

“How
do you know what you are going to paint?” She looked up at him.

“It
just comes to me. Usually something that I’m thinking about, a flash, something
I find inspirational or I just need to express.” He shook his head. “It’s
always been an outlet for me.”

“Why
here?” She reached back and curled her arm around his neck.

“Why
don’t you tell me what you think first?” Still, he didn’t let go of her. “I
painted it just for you.”

“I
know.” She continued to gaze up at him.

They
really needed to go, but he needed an answer more. “Willow?”

“Tell
me why this is a better canvas than let’s say, a canvas.”

“You
are a tease.” He shook his head.

“I
don’t think so.” She smiled.

“You
made me wait until our wedding night to make love to you.”

The
red he coveted took over her cheeks. “Of course that was our first night
together.”

“I
would have made love to you before if you would have given me anything more than
a glance.” Unable to resist he gave her a little kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Well,
at least I waited long enough to get a ring on my finger.” She let out a little
giggle.

He
took her hand and tangled his fingers in hers. “I’m glad you’re wearing it and
not hiding it anymore.”

“No
one should ever try to hide what they are.” She stared at the mural again. “By
the way, I think you have magnificent talent, and I love that the world will be
able to see the beauty in the piece, but I will be one of the only ones to know
the special meaning behind it.”

He
turned until they were nose to nose. “Only special because of you.”

She
took the initiative to connect their mouths.

Even
though they should leave, he couldn’t help but indulge in her kiss. Though he
didn’t know how he could want her more, he found he was practically insatiable
when it came to Willow. He pulled her tight against him and moaned. “Maybe it’s
time to go to our next destination.”

She
put her hand on his chest and pushed back. “Before we leave tell me why you
chose to display your art as you do.”

“I
couldn’t show my family, I guess I just wanted someone to see the art.” He
never told anyone about his thoughts, his doubts. “Maybe I just didn’t want me
or the art to disappear without notice.”

“I
don’t want you to ever disappear.” She traced his lower lip with her finger.

“I
don’t know about that, I think I added a lot of complications to your life.”

“I
can’t picture being anywhere else.”

“At
least we have luxury.” He tried to lighten the mood. “Luxury we should get to.”

“I
don’t care about that, I have you.” She turned away. “Let’s just look a moment
more.”

His
breath caught at her words and he had no choice but to stare at his creation,
their creation. As always, he painted what was top of his mind, and more and more
Willow occupied that spot. He recreated their relationship on a wall in the
middle of the industrial section of Long Beach. Though careful not to create
too close a likeness to them, he included his rendition of a proposal in the
alley, Las Vegas, moving to the mansion, and even silhouettes of Nan and little
Jeb. They created the starburst sparkle on an oversized hand with one
magnificent yellow diamond on it together. “I’m going to call this piece Our
History Part One.”

“Part
one?” Her voice came out more as a squeak.

“Yes,
part one. Maybe we can pick a different spot to put part two, maybe even a
different part of the country.” He ran his fingers in her hair. “I would like
to take you on a real honeymoon while we’re still newlyweds.”

She
shrugged.

Damn,
he hated that shrug. “No?”

“We’ll
only ever be newlyweds.” Her whole body tensed.

“I
don’t understand.” How did they go from planning their future to shrugs in less
than a second?

“Being
newlyweds lasts the first year of marriage.”

He
nodded. “Right.”

“That’s
all we’ll ever be, because deep down that’s all you want.” Without warning pushed
him away. “There will never be a Part Two.”

“Willow.”
He gathered up his things. At last they would address what she wanted, what he
wanted. “About our contract.”

“This
has nothing to do with our contract.” She backed away. “I know what you really
want, I saw the proof in writing. You were right about creating a document,
signing your name.”

“What
are you talking about?” In his haste he kicked a paint can, and it rolled down
the street. “Where are you going? You said you would stay by my side.”

“I
need a minute.” She walked away.

“Willow!”
He ran after her, scooping up his errant paint can in the process. Eventually
she would have to face him and her wants, and not hide.

* * * *

“From
up here the lights from the boats look like moving stars.” Willow stared out
over the balcony railing watching the boats in the marina. Randolph’s footsteps
echoed around her, or maybe she simply had super senses when it came to his
whereabouts. What Randolph called an apartment, she called a penthouse sitting
on the top floor of a fifteen-story building and allowing her to take in the
endless ocean.

“Yes,
they do. Funny how during the day, the boats don’t look nearly as spectacular.”
Randolph came up behind her and put a red flannel blanket around her shoulders.
“Sometimes the most beautiful things can be hidden by something that shines too
bright.”

True
to Randolph’s form, he stuck with their plans and drove them to their little
weekend getaway. As if sensing her needs, he remained quiet, only speaking once
they arrived and he told her to go enjoy the view while he tended to a few
things. While watching him paint, she never felt closer to anyone. Except for
when they made love, he never let go in such a way, the emotion in his work
evident.

“Maybe
the stars are happy hiding until they get their turn.” The wind picked up and she
offered part of the blanket to Randolph and sighed. The last thing she wanted
was to ruin their night. All she truly wanted was to be his real partner, and
be truthful with him.

Rather
than standing by her side, he took the blanket, draped it over himself and
stood behind her wrapping his arms around her and encompassing them both in the
warmth. “I may be right about putting things in writing, but I think in our
case the papers may have overshadowed something much more important.”

“I
saw the contract with your father.” She shut her eyes and inhaled. “The one
saying you didn’t want to be married no matter for what or to who.”

“Where
did you find that?” He moved over to one side. “How do you know about that?”

“I
didn’t mean to find it, I wish I didn’t.” She stared beyond the boats and into
the blackness of the night ocean. “The original contract you had with your
father never had a time limit. You don’t want a wife.”