Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (2 page)

     
At least I was
safe now. That's all that mattered. The chances that I would see him again were
extremely slim, and even if I did it was unlikely that he would remember me.
With this in mind, I assured myself that what I was feeling was perfectly
acceptable. I would get over it soon enough and, once I was done with the
painting, would be left with a wonderful reminder of my beloved sea.

    
Before I left to
continue working, I grabbed my brush and started combing through my hair. Some
might say it was too long, but I didn't care. It was brown, thick, flowed just
past my waist in large, natural waves, and was my favorite feature of mine -
when it behaved. Plus, it kept me warm when left down and doubled as a veil,
which was very important. I liked the feeling of extra coverage. Noting the
overgrown length of my bangs, I pulled out a small pair of scissors to do some
trimming.

     
I would never
by any means be considered beautiful, but I could be very pretty with the right
makeup. Of course, I suppose that was subjective depending on who was looking.
My face was heart-shaped and overly pale from a lack of sun. My mouth was a bit
on the smaller side - as was my nose - but it was quite full. Well, the lower
lip was at least. On the other hand, my light brown eyes were rather large.
Again, too large for some people, but that was also something I had to disagree
with.

     
All combined, I
apparently looked much younger than I really was. Add in the fact that I was
only four-foot-eleven and it became easier to understand why Coops had
continued calling me Babydoll even into adulthood. True, it didn't help that a
lot of my wardrobe consisted of items that mostly had some form of frills,
puffiness, lace, or flowyness. But I wasn't about to give that up. My life
could come to an end at any point, so I figured I might as well do what made me
happy and live like a queen - even if it was only in the comfort of my own
home.

     
Flowy and
breezy was my signature style, so of course I considered chiffon a gift from
the heavens. For years I had been collecting nightgowns to wear at home in
place of typical pajama sets. It could be a bit expensive at times, so most of
my shopping was done at thrift stores. On really lucky days, I might be able to
find a matching peignoir. Once in a while, I settled for loose babydoll tops
and matching bloomer shorts - although those were even rarer to find, unless I
bought them online.

     
As for what I
wore when journeying outdoors…It differed depending on my mood. Once or twice a
month I wanted to be Audrey Hepburn. Once in a blue moon I wanted to be Daria
Morgendorffer. But usually I settled for something that wouldn't make me stand
out. I rarely wore jeans, although I did have a few pairs. Really, there was
only one rule that I followed when it came to fashion: when wearing a skirt or
a dress, stockings were a must. The extra bit of fabric kept me feeling more
comfortable.

     
Yes, there were
those same people who might call my love for clothes a waste since I never went
out. Did I care? No. I was grateful for Dale's understanding, though. Knowing I
had always loved pretty looking things, he didn't think of my preference for
girly loungewear as too weird. Of course, I never wore anything too fancy while
in his presence and I always made sure I was decent. I knew he wasn't
interested in me in
that
way, but he was a straight male and I didn't
want to make him in any way uncomfortable, especially not while in his own
home.

     
Now finished
with my bangs, I put the scissors away and cleaned up the little bit of chopped
hair before heading into my bedroom to work on the painting.

     
Afternoons were
always quiet. Mornings too, probably, but having never woken up before twelve,
I couldn't say for sure. In fact, if it weren't for the music I usually had
playing in the background, the entire day would go by in silence.

     
This was how I
liked it.

     
Aside from the
necessary art contacts, the only people I ever spoke to were my two best
friends - Coops and Jillybean. Though we hadn't really seen each other in the
last few years, just knowing that I had them was more than enough. When I was
younger, I did feel lonely at times. But the older I got, the more I thrived on
solitude. As long as I was alone…I was safe. Dale didn't know that, though.
That's why he could ask me to come here so easily. But I wouldn't tell him
otherwise. Anyway, I was safe enough for now.

     
I was still
lying in bed, waiting for my body to finish waking up when I heard the phone
ring. Kicking the blanket off of me, I heaved myself out of bed and skipped to
answer it. Unfortunately, I ended up just missing the last ring. I listened for
a message, waiting for the beep to sound.

     
"Hey,
Em." It was Mercedes, owner of the Art House. "Just wanted to let you
know that someone bought your piece. Can you believe it? I mean, you know I had
high hopes for you, but imaging getting lucky so soon. A few days
after
the showing began, maybe. But congrats. As per request, we'll be sending the
payment electronically over time after the gallery ends. If you have any
questions or decide to change your mind about becoming a partner, let me know.
Toodles."

     
It took a
minute for me to process what she had said. It didn't make sense that someone
had made a purchase for a piece
before
it was even put on display. But I
suppose I should just be thankful, right? That meant that somebody other than
myself liked it.

     
The gallery was
set to open on Friday, which was two days from now. It would be a little
different from the usual showing. The theme was
moments in Seattle
, and
artists all over the city had pitched in. I had just finished dropping off my
little piece when I'd accidentally smacked into
him
.

     
Well,
little
wasn't entirely accurate. I'd had a bit of trouble fitting the damn thing into
the cab, but it ended up working once I switched to the front seat.

     
I had no
intention of taking part in the show at first, as I knew practically nothing
about the place. But during my first solo exploration, I came across a rather
magnificent sight. It was the first time it had rained since I'd arrived, which
was my primary reason for wandering outdoors. I ended up getting a little bit
lost. Eventually, the rain stopped and the sky began to clear up. That was when
I found it.

     
It was a tall
building - the kind that made you think of power and wealth. Its outer shell
was built out of some sort of reflective glass. The clouds were still heavy and
dark from the rain, but they were also just starting to spread out, making way
for the sun's light. The sky had turned luminously golden, and in that moment I
could swear I saw angels looking down at me. It was almost celestial.

     
The building
reflected this, and somehow that made it all the more intense. With the
coloring and the clouds, it was both heavenly and foreboding at the same time.
Part of me felt the need to fall to my knees in reverence to its beauty. But
the other part wanted to look away, the severity of its mighty image being too
much for me to handle. It was like staring directly at the Sun. Inspiration
became me.

     
Much like
his
eyes, it wasn't the kind of thing I could forget. But since I had the chance,
and knowing that the sight would be gone after a few minutes, I ended up
snapping a few pictures with my phone to use as a reference. As soon as I found
my way back home, I began planning. None of my own blank canvases seemed large
enough for the painting I wanted to create, so I'd had to order one online.
When I was finished with it, I almost didn't want to hand it over.

     
I had let
Mercedes deal with the pricing, so I didn't know how much I would be earning
yet. I didn't particularly care, but I was curious as to how she would go about
selling something before a public viewing even took place.

     
It was only now
that I finally thought to ask…who had bought it? It hadn't even been a full
twenty-four hours since I dropped it off. I doubted many people, aside from
other artists, would have been able to see it.

     
A silly little
idea came to me, but before I could start to hope, I reminded myself that there
was no sure way of knowing who it was unless I asked. And that, of course, was
something I was not going to do.

     
The rest of the
week passed quickly, one day blending into the next. After finishing
his
painting, I had been inspired to try and capture the colors of my friends, too.

     
As I worked on
Dale's eye, I thought primarily of dark, melted fudge. Warm and sweet, just
like him. Midway through, I had to take a break so I could bake some brownies.
The break ended up taking a little longer when I became distracted by a few
episodes of
I Love Lucy
. Still, I ended up finishing much sooner than
planned.

     
Jillian's
painting, on the other hand, was a little harder. I couldn't think of anything
edible that would match the smoky gray hue that made up her eyes. No matter how
loud and cheerful she was, there would always be an air of mystery about her -
even if she did wear her heart on her sleeve. It made for an interesting
duality, which I tried my best to recreate.

     
When I wasn't
painting, I was either dancing around the living room or sitting on my ass for
hours on end devouring books. I didn't consider my preference for romance
novels a guilty-pleasure. The entirety of my life was a guilty-pleasure. Well,
for the last year it had been, at least.

     
There were
moments when I thought about going outdoors to do some more exploring and maybe
a little shopping. But then I just told myself that I could go the following
week.

     
I was sitting
on the couch the following Tuesday afternoon, watching random videos on my
laptop, when Mercedes called me again.